


make him love you (turn it around)

by johnnlaurenss



Series: turn it around [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Pining, absolutely tooth rotting amounts of fluff as per usual, oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnlaurenss/pseuds/johnnlaurenss
Summary: Alex’s keys jingle as he unlocks the door to his apartment and he swings the door open, ready to yell loudly at his asshole roommate John Laurens.Instead, the noise dies in his throat when he sees John spread out on the couch, half eaten Chinese food in front of him, laptop open but dimmed, dead to the world asleep. Alex’s heart skips a beat or two and he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.John looks so cute like this, Alexander thinks giddily, already reaching for his phone to capture the moment.Oh.***In which Alex comes to learn he wears his heart on his sleeve, John is oblivious, and Alex formulates a ten-step plan to make that change.





	1. realize you love him

**Author's Note:**

> The Alexander Hamilton perspective of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9294701/chapters/21065315) story.

For Alexander, it starts two weeks into their final year of college.

 

He’s sitting with Lafayette in a study room in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and illuminated by the glows from their laptops. It’s habit for them at this point; there’s always be something relaxing about studying with the presence of the other. It’s different than studying with John, or studying with Hercules, or—god forbid—studying with the whole group. So it became habit, gradually, but habit all the same.

 

Lafayette’s phone buzzes harshly twice. This is _not_ habit; Alex raises an eyebrow and watches as they check their phone and sigh sadly.

 

“Everything alright?” Alex hedges. His laptop teeters dangerously on his knee as his typing slows. Lafayette’s eyes dart up to him.

 

“Yes,” Lafayette says defensively.

 

“Mhm,” Alex agrees, narrowing his eyes. He resumes typing regardless. He knows Laf will tell him when they are good and ready.

 

Lafayette turns the pages of their book unnecessarily for a moment. After a moment of pretending to read, they sigh again. “Can you keep a secret?” Laf asks.

 

Alex grins in victory. “Anything for you, buddy.”

 

Lafayette worries their lip between their teeth, clearly debating how to tell Alexander. Alex gives them time—he’s nothing if not _excellent_ at knowing how to get information out of people. After a brief hesitation, Laf puts the book down and stares hard at Alexander.

 

“I have come to realize that I am in love with Hercules,” Lafayette says, no preamble. Alex’s brain short-circuits.

 

“Uh,” he manages. “I—oh! Okay, yeah, we can work with that. I’m happy for you, Herc’s a great dude. You two would be great together.”

 

Lafayette wails. They fidget with their hands, picking at the chipping nail polish. “It is not like that, Alexander,” Lafayette murmurs. “It is unlikely Hercules feels the same. After all, he is—leagues above me. Humble, smart, incredibly talented. He has got strong roots; I have almost none.”

 

Alex stares hard at Lafayette for a moment, evaluating. Eventually he closes his laptop and leans forward. “You love him?” he states. Lafayette nods earnestly. “Okay. That’s all that matters. Maybe he feels the same. You never know. You and Herc don’t exactly wear your hearts on your sleeves.”

 

Lafayette snorts. “You have a point,” they chuckle. “Nothing like you.”

 

“What?” Alex says, derailed for a moment. “I don’t—I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.”

 

_That_ earns him another snort. Lafayette peers curiously at him. “Of course you do, Alex. It is no question who the object of your affection is.”

 

Alex blinks dumbly. “Who— _what_? I—who the hell is the object of my affection?!”

 

Lafayette stops laughing suddenly. “You…really don’t know,” they state, sounding shocked. Alex throws his hands up hopelessly. “ _Mon Dieu,_ Alexander, you’re even more clueless than _he_ is. Helpless, the both of you. When you figure it out, don’t hesitate to let me know. We can form a club.”

 

Lafayette stands at that point, pats Alexander’s knee twice, and gathers their stuff. Alex continues to gape at them. “Laf!” he shouts, whirling around in his chair as Lafayette heads towards the door. “ _Who_?”

 

Lafayette winks at them. “Figure it out, Alexander,” they whistle, picking up their last book and leaving the study room. Alex sits, shell-shocked, in the room for a while longer. Who the hell is he so _obviously_ in love with? Lafayette is smart as hell, they obviously aren’t imagining anything. Honestly, Alex thinks sometimes that they are the only person that matches his practical brilliance. So what the hell does Laf see that Alexander cannot?

 

His phone buzzes incessantly, and in an instant he’s pulled out of his own thoughts.

 

**From: Shithead**

[9:15] are u comin home soon

[9:15] idc if you aren't i’m just ordering chinese if you want some

[9:15] unless you’re enjoying your special ~*~bonding~*~ time with laf

 

Alex rolls his eyes fondly. John may be his best friend, but there’s a reason his contact name is ‘Shithead’.

 

**To: Shithead**

[9:16] fuck you

[9:16] packing up rn. get me that chicken i like?

 

**From: Shithead**

[9:16] sure sure. if you aren’t home when it gets here i’m eating it.

 

**To: Shithead**

[9:17] watch yourself

[9:17] im the only person who tolerates your dumbassery you don’t want to lose the only best friend you’ll ever have

 

**From: Shithead**

[9:17] fuck you i’m eating your chicken

 

Alex grins stupidly at his phone. For all their bitching and teasing, he really is glad to have John in his life. They’ve been best friends for nearly as long as he can remember—for as long as matters at least. He has a great group of friends, he’s more than lucky to have them. He never takes that for granted. But with John, it’s always been different. Always has been, even when they hated each other so, so long ago.

 

Alex slips his laptop into his backpack and starts collecting the rest of the books scattered across the room. He tries to make note of which ones he still needs, slipping a few into his pack but giving up on the rest. After he returns them to the shelf, he begins the walk back to the apartment.

 

They don’t live far from campus—neither of them can really afford subway fare every single day considering all the places they have to be within the span of twenty four hours. For Alex, it’s nice to have these walks from campus to home. It’s early September, a slight chill settling in the air of New York City, but it’s nothing he hasn’t come to bear within the three and a half years he’s been here. Now, the chill just helps him clear his mind. Many essay ideas have been born on his walks to or from school.

 

Today, all he can think about is Lafayette’s words.

 

_It’s no question who the object of your affection is._

 

“Well, it is a question, and I don’t have the answer,” Alex mutters.

 

He’s dated off and on throughout college, though nothing ever really stuck. He knows he’s a decent looking guy—young, skinny as hell, but handsome in a loud kind of way. But for as much as he knows, there’s never been anyone who he’s wanted to stick around.

 

He has who he needs. John, Herc, Laf. As long as they stuck around, Alex knew he’d be fine. His past is long behind him, he’s got a good and steady life, and his future is looking bright. It makes sense to him that he hasn’t really tried to incorporate romance into that. He hasn’t seen the need. Why fuck up a perfectly good dynamic when he’s got what he wants?

 

So, who the hell is Lafayette so convinced he wants?

 

Alex’s keys jingle as he unlocks the door to his apartment and he swings the door open, ready to yell loudly at his asshole roommate John Laurens.

 

Instead, the noise dies in his throat when he sees John spread out on the couch, half eaten Chinese food in front of him, laptop open but dimmed, dead to the world asleep. Alex’s heart skips a beat or two and he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.

 

_John looks so cute like this_ , Alexander thinks giddily, already reaching for his phone to capture the moment.

 

Oh.

 

“Oh,” he squeaks weakly. The realization slams into him without warning, makes him stumble back and lean on the doorframe and gasp for breath. _Oh_. “Fuck. _Fuck_.”

 

It’s all he can do to keep his breathing in check and not have a panic attack in the doorway to his apartment. He feels his heart rate pick up, and for a brief and terrifying second he wonders if he's actually going to pass out.

 

Okay, so he’s in love with his best friend in the entire world. So what? Lots of people fall in love with their best friends.

 

_Lots of people also get their heart broken, too_ , his mind tells him rudely.

 

_Go fuck yourself,_ his heart says, pounding rapidly in his chest as he stares at John.

 

John, who looks entirely different in sleep. His hair is messy, tumbling out of the ponytail it’s been in all day and willowing his face. His face is relaxed, open, unguarded. Radiant. God, it’s so painfully obvious now that Alex is in love with him, has probably been in love with him for years. It’s written all over _everything_.

 

He’s wearing one of Alex’s hoodies. Alex probably wouldn’t have noticed, had his entire world not just been entirely turned on its axis moments ago. Alex is torn between tearing it off of him and slamming him against the wall, or nuzzling his face into it and crying.

 

Neither. He decides neither are good.

 

_Fuck_. He’s been standing in the doorway too long, the door has been open _way_ too long. How the hell does he go on from here? How would he have reacted if he hadn’t just had the most eye-opening revelation of all time?

 

He closes the door. Whispers, “ _John_ ,” once, harshly, to see if John’s really asleep. Past Alexander Hamilton would start yelling, plop down noisily on top of John, and eat the Chinese food directly out of the container while watching Netflix at top volume.

 

Past Alexander Hamilton was an asshole.

 

Current Alexander Hamilton is an asshole who is head over heels stupid in love with John.

 

He’s not quite _sure_ where he’s supposed to go from here.

 

So instead of plopping down on John’s legs and being his regular obnoxious self, Alex takes a steadying breath and walks past the couch altogether, swiping a container of chicken and some chopsticks as he passes. He walks as fast as he can to his bedroom, shuts the door firmly behind him, and all but collapses onto his bed. He hasn’t got much in the way, just a single pillow and blanket. On the rare occasions he needs more comfort or support he’ll sneak in a nap in John’s bed.

 

_God_ , it’s so painfully obvious now just how _long_ he’s been in love with John. What kind of self-respecting human casually takes naps in their best friend’s bed? He feels pathetic.

 

Then again, his heart is still pounding, head still reeling, skin tingling from the realization. He doesn't think he’s ever felt like _this_. After a lifetime of expecting the next tragedy, years of distancing himself from people, endless accounts of letting things and people go—Alex never expected he’d ever feel what it was like to want someone to _stay_.

 

He pulls out his phone.

 

**To: laf**

[10:00] holy fuck

 

**From: laf**

[10:01] that took longer than i expected

[10:03] are you alright alexander?

 

**To: laf**

[10:05] i

[10:05] john

[10:06] //i//

[10:06] how long ?!? ! ?! ? ! ?!?!

 

**From: laf**

[10:06] i have had my suspicious since the two of you decided to move in together

[10:07] however i am shocked it took you this long to figure it out

 

**To: laf**

[10:07] do you

[10:07] does he

[10:08] do you think he feels the same

 

Alexander's phone begins to ring in his hands. If Laf is _calling_ him, this must be serious. He answers quickly.

 

“Yo,” Alex says, breathless.

 

"Yo," Lafayette responds. “Here is what I know.John is a harder one to read. He does not wear his heart on his sleeve the same way that you do. I believe there is a chance he feels the same.”

 

Alex doesn’t think he was ready to hear that. His heart flutters pathetically. “Ah,” he stammers.

 

Lafayette continues, “I _also_ believe that if you believe he could feel the same, and that if you want to pursue a relationship with him, that you should save us _all_ the torture of enduring your hopeless pining and just talk to him outright.”

 

Alex sits there for a moment and processes. While Laf isn’t sure if John feels the same _now_ , Alex—Alex thinks he can change that.

 

"I'm going to make him fall in love with me," Alexander says decisively. He’s pretty sure he cut Lafayette off in the middle of a sentence. He’s not sure; to be honest, he’d stopped listening a while ago. "If he doesn't already. I'm going to woo the _fuck_ out of John Laurens."

 

Lafayette groans on the other line. “ _No_ , Alex! Or you could save us all the trouble and just be upfront! _Please_ , sweet Jesus.”

 

“You don’t get to complain, you’re refusing to act on your feelings for Herc because you’re afraid he’ll reject you,” Alex retorts. “I am, at least, making plans to win the affections of the person I’m in love with. Anyway, I have a plan to prepare so I gotta go. Thanks for getting me this far, Laf, I owe you; now at least I know what I want. Oh, also—if I’m wooing John, I think you should try to woo Hercules. Hey, that could be our club! The _Woo_ Fighters!”

 

"I hate you," Lafayette sighs. “ _Do not_ ruin that band."

 

Alex whistles cheerfully. “My dearest Lafayette, I just found out I'm in love with my best friend in the entire world. Forgive me if your insults have absolutely no effect on me."

 

"I liked you better when you didn't know you were in love," they mutter. Alex can't stop _smiling_. "Fine. I'm in. Let's woo our men."

 

" _Wooo_!" Alex cheers. Lafayette finally laughs at that. "This isn't a bad thing. I promise you, buddy. We're gonna come out of this happier than ever. I’m almost certain Hercules already has some kind of thing for you so that won’t be hard. And as for John…”

 

Well. He supposes that’ll take some time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so here's what he knows.

 

It's a lot harder to woo John Laurens than one would think. Alex can't draw information from any past significant others, because John hasn't dated anyone in all the time Alex has known him. In fact, Alex hasn't ever even heard John talk about past flings. Alex, he's dated on and off and has no idea how to keep a steady relationship.

 

Well, he did once. It didn't end well.

 

So all he knows is that John Laurens is not easily wooed, and that Alexander Hamilton is not easily dateable.

 

This is going to be a lot of trial and error.

 

Something tells him John isn't the kind of guy who loves over the top romance. Alex is going to have to be subtle as fuck. He can't just get drunk with John and jump his bones; although, that is a suggestion he mulls over for a long time. No, a drunken one time thing isn't what Alex wants. He wants long term, a forever kind of deal.

 

That thought absolutely floors him.

 

God, twelve hours ago he didn't even know he was in love with John. Now he's picking out fucking _china patterns_.

 

He's absolutely giddy.

 

He’s in the middle of eating his last piece of almond chicken and staring hard at his computer screen when John knocks on his door and slides into his room.

 

On top of wearing Alex’s sweatshirt, which is riding up at the waistline, he’s wearing _fucking_ leggings and fuzzy socks. Alex thinks he might be having a heart attack. “Uh,” he says, and his chicken tumbles out of his chopsticks and onto his bed. John smirks tiredly.

 

“When’d you get home?” he asks. Alex spears the piece of chicken on his chopsticks like a heathen, and John shoots him a look as he pops the chicken into his mouth.

 

“Like, an hour ago, I don’t know,” Alex says around the food. John narrows his eyes.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks. He shuffles farther into the room. Damn fuzzy socks.

 

Alex’s brain short circuits again when his gaze catches on John’s thighs. Damn _leggings_. Alex _should_ have waken him. He _should_ have jumped on John’s legs and torn off the fucking leggings and— “Uh,” Alex says quickly, trying to derail _that_ train of thought. “Um. Figured you could use the sleep. I had stuff I had to get done, too, so.”

 

John gives him another long look. He puts his hands in the pockets of the hoodie and shrugs. “You feeling alright, man? You look kind of spooked.”

 

Alex swallows thickly. “Honestly?” he says. “I’ve never felt better.”

 

John sits down on the edge of Alex’s bed. He’s still staring, calculated. Alex is used to this. John’s the worst after waking up—slow and ornery and blunt. “Did you get laid?” John finally asks. Alex splutters in shock.

 

“No!” he shouts. John cocks an eyebrow at him. “ _No_.”

 

John shrugs. “You just look happier than usual, and I know it’s been a while. You know I don’t care, right? Like, you’re allowed to have sex with whoever you want?”

 

Alex’s world freezes for a second. “Wh—” he tries to say. He does _not_ sound as nonchalant as he wants to. “What makes you say that?”

 

John picks at a loose thread at the bottom of the hoodie he’s wearing. “Like,” he mumbles. His ears are starting to turn pink. “Look, I know when we came out to each other it was a little weird. Or. Whatever. But like. I’m not gonna get mad at you if you want to, um. With a girl. Or a guy. I don’t care.”

 

“Ummm,” Alex drawls. “Neither do I? That’s…why I’m bi?”

 

John is positively blushing now. If Alex weren’t confused and stressed, he’d be hopelessly enamored by the way the light pink color stood out on John’s cheeks. “I know,” he mutters. “I just mean. You haven’t really brought anyone over, since we came out. And I don’t. That’s not. I don’t want you to think you can’t bring over people because of me. Guys, girls, I don’t care. Just like, I don’t necessarily want to _hear_ it, is all.”

 

Alex isn’t sure how to process that. He makes a mental note to call Laf later.

 

“I know…” he tells John. “I haven’t really _had_ anyone to bring over, you know that. And you’re one to talk, when’s the last time _you_ got laid?”

 

Okay, so Alex is definitely having a heart attack now. Is this _normal_ for two guy best friends to talk about? Two _queer_ guy best friends, who are halfway in love?

 

Well, one hundred percent for Alex. Unknown for John.

 

John gives him an unimpressed look. “I hooked up with Kinloch last weekend, remember? I bitched about his horrible kissing.”

 

Alex taps his fingers out nervously on the mattress. “Right,” he says easily. He’s trying to swallow down the wave of jealousy that tries to claw it’s way through him. _You didn’t know you loved him last weekend_ , Alex reminds himself. _John also doesn’t belong to you_.

 

John shakes his head. “Okay,” he sighs. “I’m not awake enough for this. I’m going to bed, can you put the leftovers away?”

 

Alex nods silently. John lets out another long sigh and stands up. Alex tries _very_ pointedly not to stare at John’s ass in those _fucking_ leggings as he walks out the door. John turns again once he reaches the doorway, turning to Alex for a final time. “You coming with me to Laf’s show tomorrow?” he asks. Alex nods again.

 

“Leave at eight thirty?” Alex offers. John smiles brilliantly at him.

 

Ah.

 

In that instance, he realizes at once that John’s smile is the first thing he ever fell in love with.

 

“Sounds good. Goodnight, Alex.”

 

John shuts the door quietly as he leaves. Alex listens as John’s socked feet pad through the apartment.

 

“Goodnight, John,” he murmurs to an empty room.

 

He’s left alone with his thoughts, then. Left alone with the crushing realization that John’s been the center of his life for years now, left alone with the fleeting want of John crawling into bed next to him, left alone with only a half formulated plan in his brain.

 

So he reaches for a notebook, and he starts to write. He plots, he plans, he devises a strategy he hopes is a surefire way straight into John’s heart. He thinks, _I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d win his affections._

 

He thinks _, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted this to be a forever thing_.

 

He’s going to woo the hell out of John Laurens, charm him until they’re both hopelessly and stupidly in love.

 

He’s got a ten-step plan ahead of him, and for once in his life he’s certain that things are going to go his way.


	2. look really fucking hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex sets his plan in motion. It doesn't go how he expects.

_-step one: look really fucking hot and knock his socks off-_

 

 

 

Alex wakes up the next morning and his first thought is, _remember how you’re in love with John? Yeah, sucker_.

 

Then he remembers that he has a _plan_ , and he’s going to be damned if he doesn’t see it through.

 

He has about two minutes of quiet to think about his plan before he hears a heavy thud outside his door.

 

“What the fuck,” he whispers.

 

“ _Wake up, dipshit_!” John yells, throwing open his door and stumbling in. John himself looks barely awake, still in sweatpants and wearing his hair in a half-assed attempt at a bun. He’s _radiant_ , even at eight in the morning, and Alex hates it. “Rise and shine, we have places to go!”

 

Alex blinks sleepily at him. “Did you fall down in the hall?”

 

John narrows his eyes and rubs his hip. “Absolutely not,” he lies. “Get up! I’m making coffee.”

 

“Sweet Jesus!” Alex shouts, throwing a hand over his heart. “A man after my own heart. And behold, ’twas the coffee that finally won over my affections.”

 

“I’m going to pour it down the drain while you watch,” John sings, waltzing out the door. Alex wishes he had a pillow to throw at him, but he’s too far gone by the time Alex coherently thinks about it.

 

What an _asshole_. Alex _loves_ him.

 

It hits him, again, that he made a plan last night. A _good_ plan, a foolproof plan he’s sure will work if he does it correctly. It’s his excitement to start it in motion that throws him out of bed and lands him in front of his closet. Here is where the first step of his foolproof plan is to be set—he’s going to amp up his wardrobe, look _sexy_ and woo John over with his dashing good looks.

 

Here’s the problem. He knows he's a good looking guy; however, he stares at his closet in distress and now he wonders if he's ever _actually_ looked good in his life.

 

He's suddenly incredibly conscious of the bags beneath his eyes, how messy his hair constantly is, the way he's too slim but still has a little bit of chub at the bottom of his stomach. He's suddenly incredibly conscious of the fact that he's really small, of the fact that his pants pool at the bottom of his ankles because they're too long, of the fact that he's too bony around the hips. Everything at once seems to be telling him he isn’t good enough, and he wonders briefly why he even expects John to ever feel the same.

 

Alex shakes his head quickly. It’s no good to dwell on thoughts of self-doubt now. He has a _plan_ , goddamn it, and he’ll see it through.

 

" _Alex_!" shouts John from the kitchen. "Hurry the fuck up, we have to go!"

 

Alex swears under his breath. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he reaches for a pair of jeans. He figures they'll work; they're tight enough in all the right places, even if they extend a good three inches past his ankles.

 

He rolls the bottom of his jeans, throws on a button up he knows compliments his skin tone, and is grabbing some shoes when John struts into his room with two tumblers of coffee in his hands. John stops dead in his tracks when he takes in Alex’s appearance.

 

“What the fuck,” he says.

 

Alex straightens immediately. He feels incredibly self conscious again, struck by the overwhelming desire to be accepted by John.

 

“What?” he asks, defensive. His eyes dart to the coffee, wishing for a distraction. Automaticallyhis hands extend for the tumbler, making grabbing motions. “Please give me that, _god_ I need it.”

 

John pulls the coffee farther from Alex’s reach. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asks. His brow is furrowed in confusion. It _shouldn’t_ be cute, it should _not_ , but it _is_ , and Alex makes an impatient wailing noise at the back of his throat. He reaches for the coffee again and John wordlessly hands it over. He’s still staring at Alex’s clothes.

 

“Like what?” Alex prods. _Say it_ , he pleads, selfishly.

 

John’s eyes snap up to meet Alex’s. “You do realize the only people that are going to be at Laf’s show are me, you, Herc, and Laf, right?”

 

Alex fidgets. “Um, yeah? It’s a private art show, before it opens to the public?” Alex states. John is being _weird_. Alex hopes its because of his dashing good looks. With his luck, it’s probably because John burnt his tongue on coffee.

 

“Yeah, so why are you dressed all,” John waves his hands vaguely, “tight pants-y, and… stuff?”

 

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “Stuff?” he asks, amused. He’s _sure_ he’s going to get John to say it, he’s _sure_ his plan is going to work.

 

John rolls his eyes. “You’re dressed like you want to bring someone home tonight, man,” he says finally. “But whatever. Grab a jacket, it’s cold as balls out there. We gotta go.”

 

Alex pouts as John walks out the door, whistling as he goes. Still, he did _something_ to John, or else he wouldn’t have said anything at all. He takes the little victories.

 

It’s then that he hears John jingling his keys obnoxiously, a sign he’s about to walk out the door, so he grabs a coat out of his closet and picks up his coffee and hurries out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hercules whistles low and long when Alex and John walk into the gallery. Laf is standing by some paintings, but looks up at the noise. They scrunch their eyes when they take notice of Alex, already scrutinizing his dress.

 

“Damn, Alex,” Hercules calls. “Who the fuck are you trying to impress?”

 

Lafayette smirks from their spot in the corner of the room. “Yes, Alexander,” they prod. “Not very subtle, are we?”

 

“That’s what I said!” John yells, nudging Alex with his shoulder. “He was all, ‘I’m not trying to impress anyone!’ and I was like, bitch please. He acted like he had no idea what he was wearing but _you_ know.”

 

Lafayette waggles an eyebrow at Alex, who pointedly ignores it. “I _don’t_ have any idea what you’re talking about,” he lies. That earns him a collective bitch face from all of his friends. He relents. “Okay, so what if I want to look nice? This is a big day for Lafayette. Dress to impress and shit. I don’t know.”

 

John tugs on the back of Alex’s ponytail. “Dumbass,” he says fondly. Alex’s heart skips a beat or twelve in his chest. “Anyway. Show us your fucking art, you menace, before you’re a big famous artist with no time for their old friends.”

 

“Stuff it,” Lafayette calls, but they adjust their final painting and come to join the rest of the boys. “This gallery is not a big deal. I am not going to abandon any of you.”

 

“Yeah, like you wouldn’t fuck off to Europe to pursue life as an artist the first chance you got,” Alex retorts. Lafayette loops their arm through Alex’s and laughs.

 

“This gallery is a big deal, don’t downplay it,” Hercules argues. “Man, only two artists get chosen every five years for this show. They’re literally shipping off one of your paintings to a museum, and the rest of your pieces are selling for top dollar. So don’t act like this is just an every day art show or I’ll punch you in the throat.”

 

Alex snorts. “They’d probably like that, to be honest,” he mutters.

 

“What?” Hercules asks.

 

“ _What_ ,” Lafayette hisses.

 

John snickers.

 

“Nothing,” Alex says innocently. Lafayette shoots him a nasty look. “Hey, pal, show us your stuff! What are they taking overseas?”

 

Laf gives him another look that tells him this isn’t over, but regardless they gesture towards one art piece and begin to talk about it excitedly. Hercules stands in silence and nods as he listens to Lafayette describe their piece and what comes next.

 

John nudges Alex again and murmurs, “Pretty cool that Laf got chosen, right?”

 

Alex nods. “If anyone deserves it, it’s them,” he agrees. John hums in response. Alex fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. He feels self conscious _again_ , suddenly feeling overdressed and ridiculous. John never actually complimented him, either. “John?”

 

“Hm?” John says lowly. His voice is right by Alex’s ear, and it sends a quick chill down Alex’s spine.

 

“Am I…” Alex swallows. He feels stupid, awkward in a way he’s never felt before. John is patient, waits as Alex tries to articulate his question in a way that doesn’t sound stupid. “You—everyone… Am I overdressed? Do I look _dumb_ —did I—”

 

Alex trails off when he feels John’s fingers wrap around his wrist. It’s a common thing, John holding Alex’s wrists when he’s stressed or panicking. The familiarity of the gesture alone is enough to calm Alex’s insecurities, even if his heart thuds a little faster at the content. “Alex,” John murmurs, firm. Alex looks at him. “We were just teasing you. If you want to dress up, if you want to dress yourself a certain way just because, you can. God, the second I asked you who you were dressing up for, I felt like a piece of shit. That was rude of me, so I’m sorry if I made you feel like you can’t dress up whenever you feel like.”

 

Alex laughs, low and throaty. Laf and Hercules have moved to another painting, also talking in low tones. Alex is barely aware of them. “I didn’t think of it like that,” Alex assures him. He really didn’t, mostly because Alex _had_ been dressing to impress a certain person. “But thank you.”

 

John smiles at him, squeezes his wrist. “And,” he adds, quietly. “For what it’s worth. You never have to dress up if you _are_ trying to impress someone. You’re gorgeous no matter what, ‘Lex. Don’t ever worry about that.”

 

Alex _blushes_ , from his head to his toes. John laughs at the flush, eyes twinkling, every part of _him_ beautiful. John is radiant, and Alex is positively _vibrating_ , thriving off of the idea that someone as vibrant as John could ever see him as gorgeous. He makes a noise at the back of his throat, trying to respond to John but unable to.

 

“Come on,” he says, tugging on Alex’s wrist and leading him to the next painting. “We’ve got a lot of art and shit to look at.”

 

He drops Alex’s wrist once they start walking, shoving his hands in his pockets. Alex tries not to be disappointed.

 

He doesn’t do so hot.

 

“Art and shit,” he snorts, teasing. “Don’t act like this isn’t your world, John Laurens. I know about your secret painting collection, and I know about your secret night art class that you pretend is your gym class.”

 

John scoffs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says haughtily. “Those are absurd accusations.”

 

“Sure,” Alex agrees, laughing. He nudges John’s shoulder with his own and chuckles again when John retaliates with a shove. Hercules and Laf turn to look at them, then, both looking unimpressed.

 

“Boys,” Lafayette sighs. “Don’t you think there is a better time and place?”

 

John rolls his eyes, throws an arm around Laf’s waist. He’s stretched high on the tips of his toes. “Fame has changed you!” he cries dramatically. “You _know_ Alex and I are actual five year olds, I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised. What happened to the Laf that used to join in?”

 

Lafayette sniffs. “I have grown up,” they say, staring down at John. Hercules snickers at that, and John snorts loud enough that it echoes through the gallery.

 

“Right,” Alex says, humoring.

 

“Very grown up,” Hercules teases, still laughing.

 

“More mature than the rest of us,” John adds. He lets go of Laf then, to grab Hercules and Alex by the arms. “Guys, Laf is an _adult_ now.”

 

Laf turns on their heel dramatically. “I have the worst best friends,” they cry. “What did I do in a past laugh to warrant me such horrible companionship?”

 

They all snicker at that, and then suddenly Laf is enveloped by all three of them, trapped in a massive group hug. They laugh, startled by the sudden embrace but nonetheless seeming grateful for it. “You know we’re proud of you, right?” Alex murmurs. “This is incredible and you should be so proud of yourself.”

 

“Yeah,” John adds. “I know we’re assholes, but like. How else are we supposed to show you our love? With _words_? Yeah, pass. But we are super proud of you. Like, Alex called me when he found out and we cried about it for ten minutes straight. Absolutely no one deserves this more than you.”

 

Hercules squeezes them all a little tighter. “Absolutely no one,” Herc echoes. “God, I’m so proud of you, Laf. And as the oldest person in this friend group, take it from me. You can be successful and young at the same time. Please don’t forget that.”

 

Laf sighs, content. “Thank you,” they breathe. “I was joking, before. You are the best friends I could ever ask for. I would not have gotten here if it weren’t for you.”  
  
Alex knows that’s the truth. As Lafayette shows him the collection he's chosen to send overseas, Alex is struck with the sudden realization that they are a bigger part of Laf’s life than he’d originally thought. The three paintings in the collection are unmistakably inspired by _them_.

 

The one in the middle, large and intimidating and first glance but bursting with splashes of pastel colors an intricate, weaving designs. Its beautiful, painstakingly painted with an attentiveness to detail that Alex isn’t sure anyone could rival. It’s so obviously Hercules, and with every stroke of paint Alex can tell it was painted with love.

 

The next, to the left, an oceanscape laced with bright, harsh strokes reminiscent of residual anger. Theres an underlaying softness underneath the bright and distracting strokes, a calmness you can only get from sitting on the beach watching the waves turn. It’s the same kind of feeling he gets from John from time to time. John, who is angry and brash and impulsive, but distractingly beautiful and calm in his still moments.

 

And finally, the one on the right, abstract and dark and breath-taking. A still-shot from the middle of a storm, shades of black and grey and white, and one single yellow stroke near the middle. It’s conflict and resolution, it’s confusion, it’s hurriedness, it’s every emotion Alexander has ever felt plastered on canvas for anyone to see. Part of him wants to hide, wants to run from the painting and never see it again. The better part of him wants to ask Lafayette how he managed to capture Alex so well.

 

“I call this collection, ‘ _Found Home’_ ,” Lafayette murmurs.

 

John reaches out again and grabs Hercules and Alex by the hands. They stand there like that for a moment, fingers intertwined, Lafayette gripping John’s forearm in nerves, just holding. Holding each other, holding on, holding hopes.

 

“Lafayette,” Alex breathes. He’s speechless, awestruck, blown away by these beautiful creations and by the love Lafayette so obviously shoulders for them.

 

“This is…” Hercules trails off.

 

“ _Beautiful_ ,” John finishes.

 

And Alex agrees.

 

It’s not the way Alex expected to get his compliment today. This isn’t exactly what he had in mind when he wrote down his plan that night, but. God, staring at the paintings of the people he cares about, holding the people he cares about, overwhelmed by the feeling that this is his _family_ and that they’re here to _stay_ —he’s so happy, he’s beyond happy, he’s—

 

“Beautiful,” Alex echoes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Laf’s public exhibit is enormously successful. They sell the majority of their pantings, even snag some commissions, hit it off with many big names. Alex is extremely proud of them.

 

The rest of the weekend goes by without event. Laf returns to their studio to paint and pointedly ignores Alex’s texts inquiring when they will ask out Hercules. Herc himself splits his time in between his apartment and Laf’s studio, working on designs and hand stitchings. John’s in and out of the apartment all weekend, back and forth between work and the library.

 

Alex,he sits himself down on the couch with his laptop, an energy drink, his textbooks, and his headphones. He knows he has a few essays to crank out, and two lesson plans to write for this week, and he’s determined to get as much of it done before the weekend is up.

 

John comes in at one point and freezes when he catches sight of Alex on the couch.

 

“Alright,” he says after a moment, and Alex finally tears his eyes away from his laptop screen. John’s staring at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know that this is normal for you, or whatever. But you stink. And you haven’t moved from that spot in literally thirty six hours. _And_ you really fucking stink. So, like. Get up and move for thirty minutes, maybe take a shower? Or a nap? You have class in like, six hours.”

 

Alex blinks twice. “Really?” he croaks, and _wow_ , yeah, his voice is a good indicator that it’s probably time to get up. John snickers when Alex looks surprised at himself, laughs when Alex’s knees creak as he stands. “Thanks.”

 

John shrugs. “You’re a mess, Alex.”

 

Alex stretches, groaning at the pops in his joins. “Yeah, but I’m a hot mess, right?” he says.

 

He freezes.

 

John laughs, moves from his spot by the door. “ _Very_ ,” John tells him, and he slaps Alex’s ass as he walks behind him.

 

Alex can hear John’s laugh echoing down the hall. Alex himself stands there for a minute, still in shock. He thinks that logically it’s the sleep deprivation that’s making him stand there like a fool, but for a moment all he can focus on is the fact that John called him hot _and literally smacked his ass_.

 

He’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to go from here.

 

Again, logic tells him that nothing has changed, that John is just an asshole who would have done that even if Alex hadn’t realized he was crazy in love with him a few days before. But logic be damned—Alex just realized he’s _crazy in love_ with John, so naturally he’ll overanalyze every action.

 

**To: laf**

[2:13] sosososososososososos

[2:13] shit its 2am

[2:13] w/e it’s IMPORTANT

 

**From: laf**

[2:16] good lord i hate you sometimes

[2:16] what did john do now

 

 

**To: laf**

[2:16] john SLAPPED my ASS

 

**From: laf**

[2:18] god almighty

[2:18] we can talk in the morning when class starts i am going back to bed goodnight

 

**To: laf**

[2:18] but

 

**From: laf**

[2:18] G O O D N I G H T

 

Alex laughs despite himself, laughs at his irrational behavior, laughs at John being an asshole, laughs at the entire situation.

 

John’s just a dick, that’s really all there is to it. He’s a shithead, and Alex is in love with him.

 

And he thinks that Alex is _hot_.

 

Yeah, Alex thinks he’s doing alright at this being in love thing so far.


	3. look adorable as hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex doesn't see John for a few days. It drives him a bit insane.

_-look /adorable/ as hell-_

 

The beginning of September passes by in a quiet whisper. Alex spends the majority of his time adjusting to his work load for the semester; studying for his classes, learning about the kids he's student teaching for the semester, picking up shifts at the bakery down the road when he needs a bit more money.

 

John starts an internship underneath a social worker in the city, so he spends the majority of his time split between the office and campus and home. His class load is fairly easy for his final year, having taken all of his harder courses in prior semesters. It gives him more time to focus on the work at the office. When he's home, he either goes straight to his room and passes out or comes and sits next to Alex on the couch and pretends to watch tv until he falls asleep there.

 

It doesn't leave much room for Alex to continue his plan, but he doesn't mind. Not on those days when John falls asleep on the couch and every stress just melts out of him, not when John cuddles up on Alex's legs, not when John mumbles while he sleeps.

 

No, Alex decides, he doesn't mind. And his plan can wait.

 

Hercules is in and out of their lives, attending the only class he's taking for the semester, and spending the majority of his time at the office of some big name fashion mogul who took Hercules under her wing. When he returns to their lives, he's bright eyed and exuberant and full of stories about the dresses he helped design that week and the runway shows he gets to help make possible.

 

Lafayette stays in their studio, painting and painting and painting. Alex suspects that Laf's seclusion has something to do with the fact that Hercules disappears for extended amounts of time with no prior warning. Alex thinks about how he'd react if John did the same thing, and he thinks about how some days he can barely handle John only saying hi to him before he crashes in his room.

 

On those days, he bakes Lafayette some cookies or some cupcakes and visits them at their studio.

 

Together they eat cookies and Alex studies and writes and Lafayette paints and they try not to think about the people they'd rather be with.

 

Alex is grateful for Laf, he is. He thinks he'd go insane over love if he didn't have their shoulder to lean on.

 

On one particularly ordinary day, Alex is bent over reading _Les Misérables_ and Lafayette is elbow deep in a portrait. Alex laughs a bit at the paint smears scattered across Laf's clothes and body. Laf, who doesn't seem to notice, who is too focused on the strokes of color they meticulously apply to the canvas.

 

Alex himself is covered in Post-It notes and highlighter marks, but it isn't the same thing.

 

Alex's phone plays music softly, something low he barely recognizes, and it's a relaxing enough atmosphere that he _should_ be able to focus. He _should_ be able to sit down and work on his essay and finish it by the end of the hour.

 

He _should_.

 

But all he can think about is the fact that it's been almost a good forty-eight hours since Alex last saw John, in between the both of them working odd hours and having school and other commitments. Forty-eight hours since he last even caught a _glimpse_ of John; he's sure it's been longer since they've actually hung out.

 

He _misses_ him.

 

In every arbitrary, stupid way he misses John like he's missing a part of himself. It's the beginning of the semester—and their last year of school at that; he shouldn't have to go so long without seeing his best friend.

 

"I can hear you thinking," Lafayette says finally, and the illusion of quiet is shattered. Alex is suddenly painfully aware of the pounding of his heart in his chest, of the traffic outside, of the loud voices shouting and laughing next door. "Or rather, I can hear your heart pounding, which means you're thinking about John, which means I can hear you thinking."

 

Alex sighs. He bookmarks his novel. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I just miss him. Which is stupid, because I see him more often than you see Herc. But. It's not the same. I haven't really seen him."

 

Lafayette makes a frustrated noise.

 

They suddenly throw their paintbrush at the canvas. It's loud and startles Alex, and it leaves a large red mark across the center of the painting. Alex watches in shocked silence as Lafayette picks up another brush and hurls it across the room, watches as Laf kicks over their cup of paint water on the floor.

 

It's silent except for Lafayette's heavy breaths and the sound of the paintbrush and cup rolling across the floor.

 

"Laf?" Alex says, small and soft.

 

"It's him," Lafayette says shortly, and they sit down on a stool and cover their face with their hands.

 

Underneath the dark red stain, Alex can make out the outline of Hercules' portrait.

 

Scattered across the studio, Alex realizes, are all paintings and drawings of _Herc_. A faceless body resting on a couch that's covered in Hercules' favorite blanket. An intricate study of Hercules' hands, showing the scars and callouses from hand stitching designs. A sketch of two beings standing near each other, so near, but not close enough.

 

_Ah_.

 

Alex understands.

 

He stands quietly, walks past Lafayette who stays with their face in their hands, walks to the painting with the streak. Carefully he grabs a rag and startsdabbing off the smear, taking off as much of the red and as little of the portrait as he possibly can. By the time he's done, there's a faint outline of the red and smudges across the undefined profile but it looks good as new.

 

Lafayette has raised their face and stares at Alex in silence.

 

Alex cleans up the spilled water next. Picks up the mug for paint water, picks up the brushes, sets them all down where Laf likes them. Then he walks to Laf and takes their hands in his own.

 

"Laf," he says quietly, and Lafayette just looks at him."I'm sorry."

 

"I didn't mean to startle you," they say weakly, and Alex hushes them, squeezes their hands.

 

"I know, I know," Alex reassures them. "I'm sorry."

 

"It isn't your fault," Laf begins to protest. "I didn't mean to overreact, I scared you, you fixed it, I'm the one who is sorry."

 

"Lafayette," Alex insists. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he's not here. I'm sorry I'm not him, I know you wish he was here. I'm sorry I can't make this easier for you."

 

Lafayette shudders, clings to Alex's hands. "He's been talking to his ex-girlfriend a lot recently," Lafayette whispers. "His high school sweetheart. Elizabeth, I believe. They're just catching up, but. He seems happy. She makes him smile. It _hurts_."

 

Alex closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says again, and Lafayette begins to cry.

 

"I'm sorry about John," they say, in between sniffles.

 

They hold each other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alex gets home around eight, tired in his bones and emotionally drained. It isn't late but he misses John and he's sorry for Lafayette and he feels so damn _busy_ that all he wants to do is to curl up in bed and forget the world for a few hours.

 

John's shoes are by the door.

 

Alex nearly _sobs_ with relief.

 

It's such a telltale sign that John's home that Alex doesn't even hesitate, practically runs to John's room. He's sure John's asleep, he's sure John is in no state to want to even talk to him, but he has to _see_ him. Just see him.

 

John's door isn't shut all the way, a habit of John's that Alex has never understood. Regardless, Alex toes the door open and peeks inside. As he expected, John is collapsed on his bed, sprawled out across his many pillows and blankets. Alex's heart hurts just from looking at him, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face. A weight has lifted off his chest.

 

He breathes a sigh of relief.

 

"What're you doin'," John mumbles. Alex freezes. His heart is pounding, but he thinks it has more to do with ho endearing he finds John's voice when he's half asleep. It brings out a bit of his accent, something he usually tries so hard to hide.

 

Alex shifts in the doorway. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I missed you."

 

John raises his head, twists at the middle to peer at Alex. "What?"

 

"Missed you," Alex says again, still sheepish but not willing to back down.

 

John laughs, low and throaty. "You're cute," he says fondly. "Shithead. Come on, you can sleep in here tonight. Unless you've got somewhere to be?"

 

Alex is sure he practically flies to the other side of John's bed. "No," he says casually, already shrugging out of his shoes and jacket. Once he slips out of his pants, he happily climbs into bed and breathes in deep.

 

"You're a dipshit," John whispers. He's laying back down on the pillows, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Alex flicks his nose.

 

"You're an asshole," Alex replies. He burrows himself under the blankets. They smell like John and Alex could _cry_.

 

John laughs again. "No, I just mean," he starts. He sounds more awake, though exhausted. Alex loves him. "You're such a dork. I've missed you, too."

 

Alex kicks John's legs. "Don't tease me," he whines.

 

John kicks him back, and eventually it spirals into an impromptu wrestling match that ends when John's elbow lands in the center of his stomach and Alex gasps for breath.

 

"Sorry," John pants, collapsing back into the pillows. They're both giggling, still slightly out of breath and sleep deprived but content in each other's presences. “God, I missed this. Sorry that I’ve been a shitty best friend recently.”

 

Alex wants to cuddle the shit out of John Laurens, wants to kiss him over and over again, wants to reassure him that Alex would _never_ think that about John.

 

He doesn’t.

 

Instead, he kicks John’s ankles again and says, “No, you haven’t. We’ve both been busy. Hell, all of us have been busy. How long’s it been since Herc, Laf, you and I all hung out? That’s just how it goes sometimes. It sucks ass, but.”

 

John snorts. “Tell me about it,” he murmurs. The sleep deprivation is slipping back into his voice. He yawns, shifts under the covers, and Alex is so in love with him that he nearly can’t function.

 

“Go to bed,” he whispers. His voice is soft in the air, reaches across the quiet and wraps itself around John until Alex can visibly see him relax into the bed. “We can talk tomorrow, when we’re both awake enough to know what’s going on.”

 

John lets out a long sigh. “Okay,” he murmurs. His eyelids flutter again. Alex can’t look away. “Sounds…good. Night.”

 

“Goodnight,” Alex breathes. He watches in silence, watches till John’s breaths even out, watches as John grows softer as sleep takes him over. Alex’s favorite asshole—god, he’d give anything to keep John in his life for as long as possible. He knew he missed this but he never knew how much until it was laying right there in front of him. He missed casual moments with John, missed their impromptu sleepovers, missed their takeout and Netflix nights, missed every simple moment he and John have ever spent together. He misses John _so much_.

 

He’d—he’d really give anything to keep John forever.

 

He remembers, then, laying in the dim-light room next to the only person he’s ever loved so intensely, that he made a plan for the purpose of keeping John. A plan, which, if he recalls correctly, has a second step of showing John just how adorable he can be.

 

He’s already shown John he can be sexy. The next step is to be _cute_.

 

God, the first thing Alex ever noticed about John was how sexy he was. Alex can’t ever think of a time he _wasn’t_ attracted to John. The first thing he noticed about John after he realized he was in love with him? How fucking _cute_ he was. John is outright dorky, adorable and excitable and full of light. It contrasts so deeply against his asshole personality, and Alex is pretty sure that’s half the reason he ever fell in love with John in the first place.

 

Alex realizes as he’s drifting in and out of sleep that he’s already started his second step in motion without even realizing it—John called him _cute_ when Alex admitted he missed him. It makes him smile. It also makes him think that maybe this will be easier than he thought. John’s stubborn, hot headed, impulsive. But he’s also fiercely loyal, dedicated to the people in his life. Alex thinks that it’s those behaviors that will make it so easy to get John to fall in love with him.

 

He’s hopeful, for once. He’s learning what it feels like to have people in his life worth keeping, worth wanting to stay. He’s learning what it feels like to build a home and a family and a life he loves to have. When he’d first came to the states, he didn’t think he’d ever get to this place. He was going to get a law degree, get a small apartment, form no attachments, prove that he was worth listening to.

 

Instead he’s a _teacher_ , a _friend_ , living in an apartment with his favorite person in the world, surrounded by people and a city that loves and accepts him. How lucky he feels to even be _alive_ , to have a life worth living, people worth living for.

 

He built all of this out of nothing.

 

He’s sure he’ll build something even better with time gone by, and with John.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up the next morning, and John’s already out of bed.

 

He tries not to be disappointed.

 

The side of the bed is still warm, meaning John didn’t get up that long ago. Alex is also _freezing_ , probably due to the fact that he’s only in his boxers. His socks must have slipped off during the night, because he’s about eighty-two percent sure his toes have frost bite. If John were still asleep, Alex would cram his toes on John’s legs like a proper asshole and laugh when John would bitch about it. But John’s _not_ here, and Alex is _freezing_ , and he’s sure there’s a way to remedy that.

 

One of John’s hoodies is thrown haphazardly across his desk chair. It looks soft and warm and perfect. Alex steals it.

 

It’s soft, and warm, and perfect, and Alex never wants to take it off. He shuffles his way across the floor toward the kitchen, deciding now’s a good time to find John, and probably eat if the rumble in his stomach is anything to go by. He’s sure it’s been a while since he’s eaten.

 

John’s in the kitchen, holding a mixing bowl with one hand and a whisk with the other. He smiles at Alex when he stumbles into the kitchen.

 

“Pot’s almost done brewing,” he says, gesturing to the fresh coffee pot on the counter. Alex lets out a sigh. “Figured I’d make waffles like we used to when we first moved in. Remember?”

 

Alex sits down noisily on a stool. “Those were Eggos because we were poor as shit, and you’re making waffles with your sister’s recipe, so this is _not_ like when we first moved in. Nice gesture, though.”

 

“You’re a dick,” John singsongs, and he flicks some waffle batter at Alex. “These waffles are gonna be the shit, just you wait. Just you—wait, is that my sweatshirt?”

 

Alex glances down. “Uh, yeah,” he says. He’s sure he’s blushing from head to toe at this point. “I woke up and it was cold as balls and I didn’t want to put on jeans this early in the morning. This was my _only_ other option.”

 

“Because you don’t have your own clothes?” John retorts. Alex narrows his eyes at him.

 

“This coming from the shithead who stole my hoodie at the beginning of the semester and _still_ has not returned it,” Alex says, narrowing his eyes. John lets out a loud laugh at that.

 

“You’re right, you’re right,” he concedes, still snickering. “But hey, if you’re trying to seduce me by wearing my clothes, the hoodie was not your best choice.”

 

Alex _knows_ John is joking, he _knows_ that John is just teasing him because that’s what John does, he teases about this shit all the time. John thinks _everyone_ flirts with him, and while he’s usually right this time it strikes too close to home in Alex’s heart, and Alex is struck by the sudden fear that John _knows_.

 

“You saying me wearing your clothes doesn’t seduce you?” Alex says carefully. He tries to keep his tone even, keep his voice lilting, to seem _normal_.

 

“I’m saying you wearing that _hoodie_ doesn’t seduce me,” John retorts, and he throws some more batter at Alex’s head. Alex dodges it. “The hoodie’s cute, but it ain’t sexy.”

 

Alex glances down at himself again. Its an old hoodie, John’s old high school baseball one that has definitely seen better days. It’s soft and worn in and even if it isn’t _sexy_ Alex thinks its perfect. Then his mind rewinds and he realizes what John’s said.

 

“Cute?” he repeats, sounding frantic even to his own ears. John doesn’t look up from where he’s pouring batter into the waffle iron.

 

“Yeah,” John responds. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and Alex wishes he could focus on how good of a look it is for John but he has a _plan_ and he needs _answers_. “When you wear hoodies, you look more cuddly than sexy. It’s cute. You have sweater paws.”

 

Alex supposes that the large amount of his sweaters and hoodies _are_ too long in the arms. He thinks about how John would look in a hoodie too large, sleeves dangling, and suddenly he sees the appeal. “Cute,” he repeats, mostly to the mental image of John in his head.

 

John doesn’t wear too-big sweaters, because he wears things that _fit_ and make him look like walking sex. Alex supposes that the reason he’d never equated hoodies and sweaters to cute is because he’d only even seen John as hot as fuck in them.

  
Alex laughs to himself. He realizes he’s in love with John and suddenly every thought he’s ever had makes sense.

 

“I can’t believe you foiled my plan to seduce you,” Alex sighs dramatically. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

 

John takes out the waffle, puts it on a plate and slides it towards Alex. He lingers, waits until Alex takes the waffle and looks up at John, locks eyes with him. “Keep wearing that sweatshirt and you might just succeed,” John says with a wink. Alex rolls his eyes.

 

“I’ll make an honest woman out of you yet, John Laurens,” Alex says. He’s only slightly teasing—he’s in love with John, yes, but John’s still an asshole and Alex is one, too. Their friendship is built on teasing and innuendos and being total shitheads to each other. Alex wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

He keeps the hoodie.


	4. steal john's hoodies and WEAR THEM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their typical fashion, it starts as a joke.

_—steal john's hoodies and WEAR THEM—_

 

 

 

Alex throws his original third step out the window when he realizes what him wearing John's sweatshirt does to John. Part of him knows none of this is subtle; John admitted that Alex could seduce him in his hoodies and that's exactly what Alex is trying to do.

 

He doesn't account for the fact that he has a track record of _being an asshole_ , and that John is the one person more aware of this fact than anyone else.

 

October comes with a bite in her wind that means practically everyone on campus is living in sweaters and leggings. Their ragtag gang is no exception. Lafayette has worn the same paint-splattered hoodie for ten days straight. When they get to see Hercules, he's always wearing some soft pastel sweater. John goes out and buys eight of the same sweater in different colors from the same store; its snug all over and Alex appreciates it probably more than anyone else.

 

And Alex, of course, wears John's sweatshirt as often as possible.

 

He, at least, only has to look professional for a few hours every day instead of for the entire day like Hercules and John do at their internships. Lafayette could wear nothing for their work and get away with it. So in the hours that Alex doesn't have to look like a teacher who knows what he's doing, he wears John's sweatshirt.

 

It helps that the damned thing is incredibly soft.

 

John stares at him every time he walks in wearing it, stares for a moment before shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Alex preens under the attention. He’s had John’s eyes on him more often than not as of recent, and to him that means his plan is working. So he keeps wearing the sweatshirt, and John keeps staring, and they keep on pretending like this is normal behavior. For them, it kind of is—but Alex is sure they both know there’s been a change in their relationship, even if neither of them are quite sure what it entails.

 

"One day you're gonna have to give that back," he mutters, one day as he sits on the couch and Alex strolls past.

 

"But I'm seducing you!" Alex replies, grinning wickedly, and John laughs and laughs.

 

"That's my warmest hoodie, you dick!" John calls as Alex skips into the kitchen. "Have you even washed it since you stole it from me?"

 

Alex snorts. "Of course, I'm not a _heathen_ ," he says. It's a lie. The hoodie still smells like John, and Alex is thriving in it. "It's not my fault this thing is soft and warm and amazing. If you want it back, take it back."

 

"Maybe I'll just steal one of yours," John muses. He comes into the kitchen as Alex is pouring himself a glass of milk. Alex gives him an unimpressed look.

 

"I'd like to see you try," Alex retorts. John motions for him to pass over the gallon of milk and Alex does so wordlessly. He makes an affronted noise when John takes a drink straight out of the jug. " _You're_ the heathen!"

 

John, the asshole, just grins at Alex and licks away the milk mustache from the gallon. "Honestly, you should know me well enough by now to think that I’d do something like this if you handed it to me."

 

Alex tugs the gallon out of John's hands. "I wish I didn't know you," he mutters. That's another lie. "Heathen."

 

John laughs. "I'm your best friend and you can't even deny it," he reminds Alex. "You're lucky to even know me."

 

_Boy, do I know it,_ is what Alex thinks.

 

"Whatever, shithead," is what Alex says.

 

John kicks at Alex's ankles.

 

"You're the shithead," John retorts.

 

"Great comeback."

 

"Shut up." John aims another kick at Alex's ankles before he turns on his heels and starts strutting out the room. "I have to go. Herc needs a model."

 

Alex laughs loudly. "Yeah? You picking them up on your way?"

 

John doesn't reply, too far down the hall for Alex to hear him, but he hears the slam of a bedroom door when John starts to come back.

 

"No, I'm gonna drive by their place then not pick them up and tell Herc they came down with a 'mysterious' illness, so now he's gotta have to let me model," John says. He's shrugging his messenger bag over his shoulder. "See you later, dick."

 

"Have fun, shithead," Alex calls, taking a sip of his milk. He chuckles to himself as John practically skips out of the apartment, ever full of sunshine. It's only when John is closing the door as he leaves that Alex notices.

 

The asshole is _wearing_ one of his hoodies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: Shithead**

[4:18] did u seriously steal one of my hoodies

 

**From: Shithead**

[4:20] no comment

 

**To: Shithead**

[4:20] oh my god

[4:21] if you're "modeling" you are going to be wearing other clothes anyway dipshit your plan is dumb

 

**From: Shithead**

[4:22] my plan is nOT dumb

[4:23] i mean

[4:23] no comment

 

**To: Shithead**

[4:29] oh my gOD

[4:29] this means war laurens

[4:29] w a r

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Laf calls him while he's neck-deep in John's clothes, frantically looking for a single one of John's hoodies.

 

"What!" Alex shouts.

 

Lafayette is quiet for a long moment on the other line. When they finally speak, it's resigned. "Oh no. What are you doing."

 

It isn't even a question.

 

"Nothing," Alex retorts, immediately defensive. He chucks another t-shirt back into John's hamper with a shout. _Where the hell are all of his sweatshirts?_

 

"Alex," Laf sighs.

 

"John stole my hoodie, I'm stealing one of his," Alex finally admits, mindlessly, as he finishes digging through the dirty clothes. None of John's hoodies are in there.

 

"You already stole one of his, that's probably why he took one of yours."

 

"That doesn't matter, he took mine, this is _war_."

 

Lafayette mutters over the line, words Alex can't pick up over the connection. "Imbeciles," he finally catches Laf saying. "The Great Hoodie War."

 

"This is better than all the other battles we used to get into before we realized we actually liked one another," Alex reminds them. Laf snorts.

 

"It was better when you hadn't realized you were in love with John and none of us were suffering," Lafayette shoots back.

 

"If you're suffering, Gil, it's because you're just pissy Herc asked John to model instead of you," Alex says. He frowns. He already raided the closet and the hamper. _Where else does John keep his clothes?_

 

They laugh, loud enough to startle Alex out of his own thoughts. "Is that what John told you?" they ask in between snickers. "Herc needed John to do measurements on for his masculine clothes line. He needed a smaller model because he already got the measurements for the tall line.”

 

Alex starts to laugh, then, too. Of course John would bend the truth, make it seem like a bigger deal than it is just to rile Alex up. He’s such an asshole, and it’s something so inexplicably _John_ that makes Alex’s heart swell twice its size. He loves him _so much_ , god he could _fly_ with it.

 

"Anyway. I was calling you because Hercules' Elizabeth is coming to town and I'm bitter."

 

"Ugh," Alex groans. "When? Why? For how long? Where is she staying?"

 

Lafayette huffs, frustrated. "Next week. She is visiting family, and Hercules since he is nearby. She'll stay with them. I am not sure how long, neither is he. He is...very excited. I'm trying not to be jealous, he doesn't belong to me."

 

Alex picks up his phone from off the corner of John's bed, takes it off speakerphone. He's pretty sure John actually _hid_ all of his hoodies because he knew Alex would try this.

 

Asshole.

 

"He could if you'd get your shit together and make a plan," Alex says.

 

"Yes, because your plan is working so well for you," Lafayette retorts. "Tell me again how many times you've told John you love him?"

 

Alex rolls his eyes. "Shut up. My plan is working. I think."

 

Alex can practically hear Lafayette shaking their head on the other side of the phone. "You're a mess, my friend," they say. "Besides. Something tells me Hercules would not be persuaded by a well-thought out plan. I need to ask him out, I know. Perhaps after Elizabeth leaves."

 

"You gonna be alright, buddy?" Alex asks. He realizes that Laf called him for a reason, Lafayette needed _comfort_ , and he'd just been a dick for the majority of their conversation. Typical behavior, especially from him, but nonetheless he tries to remedy it now. "Is there anything I can do?"

 

Laf takes a deep breath. "Keep me updated on your damn plan to make Laurens fall in love with you," they say with a laugh. "I could use the distraction, god knows. As long as Hercules doesn't ask me to join him and Elizabeth on their brunch date I believe I will be fine."

 

"You can always come to our place if you need an escape," Alex reminds him.

 

"I guess it is lucky I don't live with Hercules," Lafayette murmurs. Alex can hear shuffling in the background. "I don't know how you do it. I know I am welcome in your home, if I need an escape. Thank you. Alex."

 

"Anytime, pal," Alex says. "Anyway. Not to distract from your problems because you're a big part of my life and I love the shit out of you, but if you were John Laurens and were hiding your hoodies from me for whatever reason, where would you hide them?"

 

Lafayette just laughs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**To: Shithead**

[6:02] did you seriously //hide// your hoodies?????????????????????????

[6:02] childish

[6:03] and amateur

 

**From: Shithead**

[6:09] //no comment//

 

 

* * *

 

 

John owns this sweatshirt, has owned it for nearly as long as Alex has known him. It's black with a tiny white sketch over the left breast pocket, a small image of a middle finger. The hoodie itself is two sizes too large, but has been washed so many times it’s shrunken in length. There’s a hole on the right shoulder, the hoodie barely covers John’s torso, let alone Alex’s.

 

Alex finds it after spending three days searching for just one of John’s hoodies, and he promptly steals it.

 

It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. After John had taken it upon himself to hide all of his hoodies, Alex had done the same. He’s not above stooping to John’s level if it means winning this war they’ve started with one another.

 

This isn’t exactly what he had in mind when he changed his third step of his plan. He had expected soft hoodies, and John getting blushy and nervous. He’d expected John to call him cute, for shy interactions, expected some kind of soft gay shit he sees in movies and tv. He didn’t expect a battle, a running tally kept on their fridge of the number of hoodies in each other’s possession.

 

No, this isn’t what he expected, but he supposes he probably should have.

 

He’s sitting cross-legged on top of their countertop, wearing the hoodie he found, when John comes home from his internship. He’s got a smug smile on his face, smug because he’s in the lead now, smug because he loves winning.

 

John doesn’t notice him for a second, walking into the kitchen with his headphones in and his head down. When he finally does look up, he blinks twice at Alex before he starts glaring. “Where did you find it,” he sighs. Alex grins.

 

“You aren’t as clever as you think you are,” Alex teases. He’s lying—the only reason he found it was because he’d spilled a bit of food on his sofa cushions and was hiding the stain when he’d noticed the hoodie stuffed in between the cushions. John lets out another long sigh, shakes his head. “This puts me in the lead now, asshole. Suck it.”

 

John turns, raises an eyebrow at him. “If I recall correctly, that only gives you three hoodies. I have four of yours.”

 

“You have two,” Alex argues. He’s still grinning smugly, and he points to the tally board on the fridge. “So says our official scorekeeper, too.”

 

John glances at it, nods once. “You’re right,” he says dramatically. “Except for the part where I forgot to update that. See, I realized the other day that I have four of your hoodies, which is pretty impressive if I say so myself. I have the two I’ve stolen from you most recently, and the two I’d already taken prior. You know, your Shakespeare hoodie? And that ugly green one I borrowed for Halloween and never returned. So that makes…four. Unless I’m counting wrong.”

 

Now John is smiling smugly at him. Alex sits in silence, shocked and staring at John with his mouth hanging open. John winks at him. “Those—those don’t _count_!” Alex insists. John is in the middle of shooting back a taunting response as Alex hops off the counter. Whatever he’s about to say gets caught in his throat as he takes in Alex’s appearance, hoodie too short length wise and thin leggings he’d found the other day.

 

Alex can’t help but feel a little bit victorious in the way John’s eyes rake up and down his body.

 

“Um,” John says. “Uh. I have… I have to, uh, go study. And it counts. It totally—it counts. Um. Okay, I’m gonna go. Study. I’m—yeah.”

 

Alex grins, smiles from ear to ear as John stumbles his way out of the kitchen an bumps into chairs, awkward as he tries to flee. Alex can’t _stop_ , he’s _bursting_ with satisfaction and knowing that for whatever reason, this hoodie thats too big and too short and those leggings that are too tight did something to John that he’s been trying to do nearly this entire time.

 

He keeps smiling, has a skip in his step as he goes to fix their tally marks, feels like he could smile every day from the rest of his life. This is how it’s supposed to be, Alex thinks. Being in love. Being so happy that there isn’t a single thing that could bring you down. He wonders how he went so long without realizing he was in love with John; he’s spent the past few years happier than he’s ever been.

 

Regardless, he knows now. And he’s well on his way to making this a permanent aspect of his life.

 

He has two texts from Herc and Laf when he checks his phone later, both of them reading about their gang going out to dinner later if Alex and John have got the time. Alex is still smiling.

 

**To: laf**

[7:07] want me and john to mysteriously be unable to come to dinner so you can have some time with herc?

 

**From: laf**

[7:08] its a nice gesture but hercules is bringing elizabeth. he wants us all to meet her.

 

“John!” Alex calls. “We’re going to dinner, get your ass in gear!” He waits until he hears John’s murmured reply, waits until he hears John shuffling around in his room before he finally replies to Lafayette.

 

**To: laf**

[7:10] ugh. okay john and i are coming, we’ll be your barricade

 

**From: laf**

[7:11] thank you. thanks.

 

“You can’t wear a hoodie to dinner!” John shouts from the hall. Alex rolls his eyes and slides into the hall, peeking at John who is peering out of his room to yell at Alex. Alex raises an eyebrow.

 

“You just don’t want me wearing your clothes in public,” Alex whines. “I bet you’re embarrassed by me or some shit. Which is really fucking rude. I’m your _best friend_ , I’m not _embarrassing_. Have some respect.”

 

“You _are_ embarrassing, and yet I still claim you,” John says with a dramatic sigh. “Hurry up, I’m almost ready and you’re still in _leggings_.”

 

“Fuck you,” Alex says happily.

 

He’s getting used to this, this happiness thing. The banter, the subtle flirting, the teasing and the godforsaken war they’ve started because they’re both stubborn and weird and prideful. He’s getting used to wanting to laugh, smile, fucking _soar_ , every second of every day. He doesn’t want it to end—that’s all he can _think_ about. He doesn’t want to end, and he’s getting used to the idea that he might not ever have to let go of that.

 

He’s being selfish, he knows—wanting to keep this for as long as possible.

 

But god, he’s so happy it can’t even phase him. He’ll be selfish; it wouldn’t be the first time in his life. And he’ll choose selfishness over and over and over again if it means he gets to choose John.

 

He pauses in the middle of changing, stands in his room shirtless and holding John’s hoodie in his hands. Its soft and warm and has that lingering John smell, but it’s familiar and its good and all Alex can think is that he’s holding something in his hands that is almost everything John is to him. It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever thought, and he’s so over the moon about the fact that he’s even thinking such cheesy romantic things that he can’t help but think it over and over again. John makes him better. John makes him _happy_. John’s the one bright spot in his life, and he’ll be damned if he lets it go easily, if at all.

 

Alex thinks back to Lafayette’s painting, the one splash of yellow in the center, the eye of the hurricane and the bright spot in the middle of a storm. It’s _John_. The best part of him is John. Lafayette knew it before he did, but he knows it now and he’s vibrating with the knowledge that this is changing him for the better. John, the calm in the middle of a storm. Alex has always gone nonstop, destroyed everything he’s ever touched and not looked back to check the damages. John calmed him, John’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

 

He’s holding a fucking hoodie, and he’s trying not to cry. He wants to feel pathetic, wants to laugh at his own expense because this is sappy and cheesy and lame. Instead, he holds the hoodie a little tighter and lets out a small laugh.

 

He’d meant to steal John’s hoodies and make John fall in love with him.

 

Instead, he’d only fallen in deeper himself.


	5. make him crave your touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has always been touch starved. He takes what he can get.

_—make him crave your touch—_

 

 

 

There is one thing Alexander has learned over the years, and it is the fact that the time he spent living in Nevis made him starved for touch. He took a test in a philosophy class during his first year in the States, one that told him he felt and expressed love by touch and affirmation. It made sense to him at the time. Before he'd moved to the States, he had spent the last few years refusing the touch of anyone on the island, refusing so much as a hug for comfort.

 

His mother used to hold him in her arms. She used to run her fingers through his hair while she sang him Spanish lullabies, she used to hold his little fingers in between hers, she used to put her hands over his as he learned to play the piano. She died with him in her arms, her embrace an attempt to calm the shakes and shivers that eventually claimed her own life. After that, he wasn't so certain he'd ever seek out the comfort of human touch again.

 

He shied away from hugs. He'd flinch and move from casual touches. He didn't let people touch his hair. When he hooked up with someone, there were never cuddles after, no intimate caresses, no lingering holds. He thought he was doing what was best for himself.

 

He didn't realize how starved he was for touch until he met his best friends.

 

Lafayette loves to braid Alex's hair, loves to play with Alex's fingers the same way his mother used to, loves to paint Alex's nails and toes and pamper Alex. They've done this for as long as Alex has known them, persisting past Alex's flinches and shivers when they would casually touch him until he was used to it and ultimately came to expect it.

 

Hercules was the same way. He could tell Alex was skittish about touch, but nonetheless he knew Alex was starving for it. His casual touches are an arm around Alex's shoulders or waist, or a gentle massage in his neck and shoulders when he's stressed, or a reassuring arm squeeze when Alex is panicking. He knew Alex was running away from being touched, picked up on it at the start, but he took the time to find ways to reassure Alex regardless and it ultimately made Alex realize just how badly he needed it in the first place.

 

And then there is John. John, who has no regard for personal space. John who falls asleep on Alex's legs, who holds Alex's wrist, who cuddles near-strangers just because he wants that comfort. John, who will crowd himself against Alex's back in the morning, desperate for warmth, who will jump on Alex's bed if he's still asleep and stick his cold toes on Alex's legs, who sits too close to everyone and who kisses everyone's cheek and who taught Alex what it means to be comforted by human touch again. John was the one who finally brought him out of this shell, this hard rock he'd built himself where he wouldn't let touch save him. John made Alex the cuddly, touch starved monster he is today.

 

Their little ragtag gang has always been close because of this, because of their need to constantly be in contact one way or another. When they go out, they approximate the entirety of the booth and usually end up sitting more on each other than on the booth at all. When they watch movies, they curl up with one another in some way or form. Laf does their hair and nails, Hercules rubs relaxing circles into their skin, Alex stretches and nuzzles, and John takes up space across all of them, whichever way he can. It's a dynamic that works for them, works for Alex because it makes him realize just how healing the touch of another person can be, works for any one of them because they all are content with casual intimacy.

 

It's why Lafayette struggles so much with Hercules working so often. It's why John gets cranky when he doesn't spend a few hours with his friends each week. It's why Alex starts to shiver and shake when he holes himself up in his work. They rely on each other, they have a bond no one can describe, and it’s built on a fundamental need for touch that’s engrained into every single one of them.

 

One thing Alex has picked up on since he’s realized he’s in love with John is that John is even more touch starved than him. John constantly seeks out the comfort of another person in contact with him, constantly reaches for other people, constantly leans into the touch of anyone near him. Another thing Alex has picked up on in recent weeks is that he’s a bit jealous of it.

 

It’s not that John doesn’t seek out his touch, because he does. It’s that John seeks it out from other people just as much. Alex is _desperate_ to make John crave his touch, desperate to be in constant contact with John whether it be curling up next to one another on the couch or sitting too close in their chairs or any other regular habit of theirs. He was so sated by getting constant love and support from his three best friends that now he’s beginning to realize he’s starved for _John_.

 

_Touch me_ , he wants to scream. _Hold me._

 

He doesn’t say any of these things.

 

They’re curled up together, the four of them, in Hercules’ apartment come Halloween. None of them had the energy to go out nor the desire to put time and effort into a costume. The kids have long-since come and gone, and they sprawl out on Hercules’ shitty couch and eat the left over candy and watch scary movies. John is snuggled up next to Hercules, Laf approximating the other half of the couch, and Alex is stretched across the space between them, his head in Lafayette’s lap and his feet in John’s. One of John’s hands is resting on Alex’s ankles, and it’s so casual and tender that Alex’s heart is basically pounding out of his chest. He’s sure Lafayette can feel it, if the way they keep rubbing his shoulders and tugging on his hair is anything to go by.

 

They’re halfway through _Final Destination_ and Alex is still thinking about the fact that he wishes he were the one cuddling with John when he’s struck by a sudden thought. His breath hitches in his throat and he can feel himself flinching in surprise. Lafayette’s fingers tighten in his hair, a silent inquiry, and John squeezes Alex’s ankle.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks, sounding worried. Hercules glances at him, Lafayette presses his thumb into Alex’s hairline.

 

“Yeah,” Alex breathes.

 

_It’s just that I realized John is the only reason I’ve let people touch me,_ Alex thinks.

 

John squeezes his ankles again.

 

Alex tries to process.

 

In the first few months after he’d moved to the States, he’d thrown himself so headfirst into his schoolwork and refused to let anyone in. He was that way when he first met these three idiots. He knew they were different, knew they were people he’d actually be able to connect with, and it scared him. So he fought with John, viciously, and acted like a dick, and he thought that it was for the best.

 

Then one day John accidentally crashed into Alex and nearly knocked him over, and Alex realized just how starved for touch he really was.

 

So he stopped fighting with John and he leaned into touch and he let people into his life. _God_ , he owes everything about where he is today to John reminding him how desperately he needed human contact. His friends, his home, his career, his _life_ —all of it boils down to John’s hands on Alex’s shoulders in a moment of surprise.

 

_Of course_ he’s in love with John, how could he not be? He keeps having revelations like these, keeps realizing how intricate a part John is in his life, keeps realizing that he was practically fated to fall in love with John from the start.

 

How grateful he is for Lafayette in this moment, for their help in making him realize just how long he’s been in love with John.

 

He’s quiet for the rest of the movie, a first for him, and he can tell that his friends pick up on it by the way John’s fingers keep tracing patterns on his ankle, by the way Hercules keeps glancing at him, by the way Lafayette keeps doing and undoing mini braids in his hair. But he’s content to stay this way. He’s happy, here, with his friends surrounding him and with these revelations engulfing him. He’s out of words, there aren’t enough to string together well enough to efficiently describe the way he feels.

 

Alex spent years on Nevis thinking that if he let people in, they’d just leave. That’s what his father did, his mother, his cousin, his foster parents, his brother. That’s what happens, people _always_ leave. He moved to the States expecting to make something of himself, become a big name lawyer and to be heard and seen, and instead he found a family and a home and a group of shitheads he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. And it all comes down to one moment in time, one fleeting second where John touched him and Alex was knocked off his feet.

 

_I can hear the bells_ , he thinks, giddily. _Seems like Tracy isn’t the only person who found love through one little touch._

 

He’s so happy.

 

When the movie ends, John sprints to the bathroom and Hercules starts to stretch out. Lafayette follows Alex into the kitchen as he gets a drink. “Are you alright, Alexander?” they murmur quietly.

 

Alex smiles at them. He reaches out, twines his fingers with theirs, says quietly, “ _Thank you_. I’m good, I’m really good. Just—realized how much I owe to John for where I am today. And I realized how thankful I am for you for helping me get here.”

 

Lafayette laughs, shakes their head. “You’ve known you’re in love with him for all of two months and suddenly your entire life has changed.”

 

“Not changed,” Alex disagrees. He squeezes Laf’s fingers before letting them go. “Just shifted on the axis. Everything is pretty much the same, except for the fact that everything is centered around John now. And the fact that I keep getting struck with the realizations that he’s the best part of who I am.”

 

Lafayette nods. “That is how I felt when I first realized I was in love with Hercules,” they agree quietly. “Do you remember who I first was when we all first met? Hercules encouraged me to embrace my identity, encouraged my art, encouraged my talents. I would not be where I am today had he not reminded me that I am who I am regardless of what others say or do to make me feel otherwise.”

 

Alex smiles. “We fell for some pretty great guys, didn’t we?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“What are you guys gossiping about in there?” John hollers, apparently out of the bathroom now. Lafayette rolls his eyes at Alex. “Y’all better not be talking shit about us!”

 

Alex raises an eyebrow. “We would _never_ ,” he calls back. Lafayette snickers. “Well, it’s true—we weren’t talking shit.”

 

“As if we have anything negative to say about those two shitheads,” Lafayette whispers back.

 

Alex smiles, nudges Laf’s shoulder with his own. “Come on.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

November makes her way into their lives silently, dropping the temperature and bringing schoolwork into the front burner of everyone’s mind. Classes get harder as finals approach, stretching each student thin. Alex and John spend most of their time camped out on the couch or in various study rooms in the library, bent over textbook after textbook. Alex’s students carry their stresses into his classroom; he does everything he can to teach them and reassure them that they’re going to be fine. John comes home some days exhausted from his case load. There are days he meets kids in horrible situations and he watches silently as the social worker he interns other tries half-heartedly to help them.

 

“I’m not going to be like that, Alex,” John hisses, fervently, head in his hands and shoulders shaking as he cries. “This guy doesn’t care at all if these kids are taken care of, it doesn’t make _sense_! Why would you go into this field if you don’t care about kids, don’t care about them having the best options? God, Alex, you should have seen these babies. They need homes, they need _love_. I’m not going to be like him. I’m—I’m going to make sure they get the best chances.”

 

Alex runs his fingers through John’s hair, holds his arms as he shakes, says, “I know, I know. You’re better than them, John. I know, I know.”

 

Hercules gets a chance to spend a week in Milan with the designer he’s been working with, and they all hug him too tight and kiss his cheek as he gets on the plane. If Lafayette lingers too long in the hug and watches too long as Hercules walks away, well—Alex pretends not to notice, and he holds Lafayette’s hand a little too tight in the car ride home.

 

He spends a lot more time with Lafayette, makes sure they’re taken care of. John comes with when he can, though he doesn’t understand why Laf is so sad all the time. Still, Laf appreciates it all the same.

 

“Are you doing okay, Gil?” Alex asks one day, as Lafayette highlights sections of their art history book.

 

Lafayette looks up, smiles at him. “I’m a lot better. Hercules and I talk every day, we try to. Elizabeth is gone, and Hercules even told me that he’s sure there’s nothing there anymore. Whatever they had, the feelings are long gone. It’s…reassuring. So I am doing better.”

 

Alex smiles, glad to hear it, and he squeezes Laf’s ankle since it’s the closest thing to him. “I’m glad. I’m really glad.”

 

The days stretch one, they spent time together when they can, and the world keeps turning.

 

When Hercules gets back from Milan, they celebrate his successes and go out to dinner. As per their style, they get a four person booth and end up more curled up together than on the booth at all. Laf and Alex sit on one side, Herc and John opposite, and they laugh and smile and hold on to each other. Together for the first time in a long time.

 

Herc says, “Damn, I missed you guys.”

 

John says, “Ditto.”

 

Alex kicks at John’s shins underneath the table, and Lafayette laughs at all of them. “Children,” they say disdainfully, but their smile is bright and ear to ear and Alex knows they’re happy to be here with everyone. Alex looks at John from across the booth, and for a moment is breathless as he takes in John’s appearance. John, who laughs with his head thrown back and his eyes scrunched together, who is radiant in the presence of all the people he loves most. Alex knows in that instance that it isn’t fair of him to be jealous as he was on Halloween, isn’t fair for him to want John’s touch solely for himself and to want John to only seek comfort from him. John’s greatest joys in life are all around him, surrounding him from every corner. They are what makes John’s life complete, and Alex knows now that John needs love and comfort and touch from _all_ of them. It makes his heart swell, realizing that John’s heart is so big and that he’s so fiercely loyal to his friends. It makes him wonder what it’s like for John to be in love with someone, and how immense that must be.

 

Alex hopes with every fiber in his being that he gets to be the person to find out just how immense John’s love can be.

 

"Well," Hercules says. "Catch me up! I've been gone for a week, I'm barely here anymore anyway. What's been going on? How are classes? Interning? Arting?"

 

"Classes are alright," Alex says. "Midterms are in full swing, everyone is dying, but you know that. The class I student teach is holding out. They're such smart kids, it kills me that they don't see it. I wish I could just shake all of them and scream how brilliant and clever they all are until they understand it. The teacher I'm working with doesn't give a shit about them either, cares more about the material than the students themselves. Which is bullshit. Material is going to change, and these kids are the ones who are going to change it. Subject matter doesn't matter, the students do. I'm gonna fight him pretty quick if he hands out one more failing grade on an essay."

 

Hercules grimaces. "I had a teacher like that," he says, sympathetic. "Good thing there are people like you who actually care."

 

Alex nods.

 

"Interning?" Hercules prods.

 

John sighs dramatically. "The social worker I intern under is incompetent and hates children. It's really hard to feel like I'm learning anything when all he does is remind me that he doesn't actually care about the well-being of these kids. I'd quit if I had the choice, but there's no way I'll find a different worker to intern under this late in the semester."

 

Hercules pats John's shoulder. "I don't understand how you can be a child welfare social worker if you don't actually want the kids to end up in good homes."

 

John mutters indignantly. "That's all I've been trying to say."

 

"Arting is good," Laf says, after they've all taken a sip of their drinks. Everyone turns to face them. "I only have one piece left before I finish the collection I commissioned at my gallery back in September, then I'll receive payment on it and hopefully get commissioned again. Other than that it's just studying for finals. My professor wants me to apply for a program that will take me overseas for my last semester and work underneath an art consultant."

 

"All semester?" Hercules asks sharply. John's lips tighten.

 

Alex watches as Lafayette's shoulders droop, watches as their gaze sweeps past everyone and focuses on Hercules, watches as they search for how Hercules is responding.

 

"If I go, I'd be back two weeks before graduation," they say carefully. Hercules grips the table-top, tight and white knuckles. Alex watches as Lafayette stares on.

 

"Ah," Hercules strains.

 

They all sit in silence for a minute, processing. It would be a great experience for Lafayette, all of them know this. This could be huge for them, would help them a lot, would advance their career and their art. Everyone at the table knows that this is a big deal, and no one is going to tell them not to do it.

 

"Don't go," mutters Alex.

 

Okay, everyone except for him, apparently.

 

Instantly, everyone's gaze snaps to him. He feels self-conscious for a moment, selfish as he asks Lafayette to stay for them. When he doesn't continue to speak, he feels John stretch out his legs and loop his ankle with Alex's in reassurance.

 

His heart thuds twice.

 

He's got to give Lafayette the option, he's got to give Hercules a chance to ask them to stay, he's got to be the one to ask first so that Lafayette will know they all want them here.

 

"Don't go," he repeats again, louder but timid. "Stay here, stay for your last semester."

 

Lafayette draws in a sharp breath. They turn to John. Alex knows in that instant that they aren't ready to hear what Hercules has to say.

 

"John?" they ask. Their voice is small, afraid. Desperate for a reason to stay, wanting a reason to go; caught in the middle and needing their friends to guide them.

 

"I don't want you to go," John says, short and final. He's still thin-lipped, still pale, still holding onto Alex's ankle from under the table. Alex thinks that John might be seeking reassurance from him, too, not just giving it.

 

Lafayette nods, and John presses on. "You could find someone to work with here. It's your final semester, your last one. The last semester with all of us. Stay."

 

Alex kicks his leg a little bit, just enough to nudge his foot against John's shin. He hopes John knows it's his way of comforting from across the booth.

 

Lafayette blinks twice, long and heavy, before their gaze finally turns to Hercules. "Herc?" they murmur. Alex is struck by how afraid Laf is in this moment, struck by the realization that Laf is trembling and desperate for Hercules to ask him to stay. Instantly his hand reaches out, finds Lafayette's and pries their fingers away from gripping their thigh so he can twine his fingers with theirs. He squeezes once, trying to reassure him that he's there, he's not going anywhere no matter how this plays out.

 

"It's a great opportunity," Hercules says evenly. He's still gripping the table-top, still looks strained. "I know you miss Europe. And I know this would be a great chance for you to get a taste of home and to mingle in other cultures and to be exposed to art and to spread your art through another continent."

 

Lafayette's grip tightens around Alex, constricting.

 

Hercules sucks in a sharp breath. He's trembling, Alex notices, like Laf, and he says in a rush, "But you need to stay. You have to."

 

He stands and walks so abruptly that the rest of them sit in shock for a moment and wonder if he'd really said anything at all.

 

Lafayette lets out a breath they'd be holding, and both John and Alex's shoulders drop as they relax into their booths. John pulls his leg away from Alex, and Alex tries really hard to focus on what matters and not the loss of touch.

 

He's pretty sure he's failing.

 

"Laf," Alex says gently. 

 

“Go talk to him,” Laf says, short. They move out of the way, and Alex climbs past him and moves to find Hercules. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t want to see Laf or how John is handling him, goes outside and finds Hercules standing on the curb in the cold fiddling with a cigarette.

 

“I thought you quit,” Alex says quietly. Hercules doesn’t acknowledge him.

 

“I did,” he says. “I didn’t light it, don’t worry. I don’t light them anymore. Laf would murder me…”

 

Alex nudges Hercules arm with his shoulder. “About Lafayette.”

 

“They can’t leave,” Hercules says. “They have to stay. It’s the last semester. The last chance for all of us to be in college together. It… It could be the last few months we all get to hang out as often as we do.”

 

Alex looks at Hercules, shocked. “What?”

 

Hercules kicks at the curb. “We’re all growing up,” he murmurs. “We’re getting jobs after this. You’ll be teaching, John will be taking on cases and gone at weird hours. I could be traveling with this company, Laf could be fucking off to Europe. It’s just…these last few months are the last we’re going to have. The last times the four of us are going to be able to hang out every day, every week. I’m not ready for that.”

 

Alex closes his eyes, sighs. He’s starting to realize just how much they all rely on each other. “Buddy, this isn’t the end of our friendship. None of us are going anywhere, we’re stuck together for good. My hours are changing, John’s will change. You’re going to be a big name designer and you’re going to have great stories to tell, and Laf’s going to be successful and in-demand. These are good things for all of us. But this definitely doesn’t mean that our friendship is ending.”

 

Hercules sniffles, then, and reaches up to wipe away tears with the palm of his hand. “Everyone says that,” he argues. His voice shakes. “Everyone says it’s not the end, and then suddenly its been three weeks since you've hung out. And then its been three months. And then it’s been ten years. People _always_ say that. And they’re always wrong.”

 

Alex shakes his head. “Not for us,” he promises. He grabs Herc’s forearms, makes Herc turn and look at him. “Not for us. We’re different.”

 

Hercules smiles sadly. “Sure.”

 

“ _Hercules_ ,” Alex insists. “That isn’t going to be us.”

 

He lets go of Hercules’ arms to wrap him in a hug, tighter than he’s hugged anyone in a long time. Hercules laughs a little, mostly a surprised exhale, and he wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders. Alex holds him tighter.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Alex nuzzles into Hercules’ chest.

 

It isn’t going to be them. Alex will make sure of it.

 

Hercules’ phone goes off in his pocket, and they both laugh and pull away from each other. He smiles at his phone, and something inside Alex twists.

 

“Someone special?” Alex asks.

 

Hercules glances at him. “Nah,” he says. “This girl, an assistant at the label I work for. She’s pretty cool, she was just asking if I wanted to come hang out with her and her sisters.”

 

A weight lessens in Alex’s chest. “Ah,” he says. _Good_ , he thinks. “Are you gonna go?”

 

“I think I need to go to apologize to Laf before I do anything else,” Hercules says. Alex nods. “I don’t want them to go but. I think I need to tell them to do what’s best for them. Remind me not to beg them to stay.”

 

Alex laughs. “I already did that for you,” he smirks. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. It’s cold as balls out here and you’re holding a dumb unlit cigarette.”

 

Hercules smiles, glances down at the cigarette before flicking it into the street. They walk back into the bar together, Alex right behind Hercules. Laf and John are still sitting at the booth, both look up as they walk in. Hercules slides in next to Lafayette.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was acting selfishly. I don’t want you to go, but it isn’t my choice. It’s yours. Do what’s best for you.”

 

Lafayette smiles, sadly, at all of them. “I’m not sure I want to leave any of you,” they say. “It is an option I have. But I’m not sure I will take it.”

 

Hercule’s head drops and he lets out a long breath. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes. Around the table, all of his friends laugh.

 

John presses his thigh to Alex’s, and Alex tries to control his heart as it leaps from his chest to his throat. “What a bunch of idiots,” he says, mostly under his breath. He grins wolfishly at Alex. He smiles back instantly.

 

“Good thing we love ‘em,” he says, and John leans against him.

 

_Yeah_ , Alex thinks to himself. It’s a good thing they’ve all got each other.


	6. don't date other people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes on dates. Alex... doesn't handle it well.

_—don’t date other people—_

 

 

 

If there is one lesson Alex takes away from the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, it's that if you're pursuing a relationship you shouldn't date other people.

 

It seems obvious. Hell, Alex is dense as can be and yet he still thinks there's logic behind this reasoning. John, however, is unaware that he's in the start of a relationship and thusly cannot follow this rule. He comes home early one morning, hair a mess, clothes wrinkly, looking hungover as fuck, and something inside Alex _dies_ a little.

 

"You're home late," he comments from his spot on the couch. He's been there all night, obsessively worrying. John is never one to stay out late, at least never without a text. Naturally, Alex spent the entire night believing John had either been kidnapped or was stranded in an alleyway somewhere bleeding out. John has a tendency to get into fights he can’t handle by himself far too often, and Alex has been lucky to be there or nearby every time it has happened so far.

 

John startles then winces, closing the door quietly behind him. Alex almost feels sorry.

 

Almost.

 

"It's seven in the morning," John hisses. He drops his messenger bag on the floor.

 

Alex sips his coffee. "My point exactly," he says coolly. He's trying not to be bitter. "Long night?"

 

John smirks. "Rough, for sure."

 

Alex crinkles his nose in disgust. He feels kind of sick and it's pathetic because he knows he shouldn't be jealous or upset when John's _not_ even his yet. He still feels sick.

 

"Gross," he mutters. John collapses next to him on the couch. He _reeks_ of vodka. "Did you do vodka shots last night? God, John, no wonder you're a fucking mess today. Do you even remember last night?"

 

_Say no_ , Alex silently pleads.

 

"Unfortunately," John groans. He sniffs himself and makes a face when he gets a whiff of the residual alcohol scent. Alex is surprised he doesn’t throw up right then and there. "Jesus fuck, I'm gonna hurl."

 

He takes off his hoodie and throws it in the general direction of the hallway. Alex tries not to stare at his bare abdomen.

 

“Please don’t,” Alex says. He takes another drink of his coffee before sighing and offering it to John. No matter how mad he is, he knows he can't deny John the one thing he's certain will make him feel better.

 

"Fuck, I _love_ you," John gasps as he takes the mug out of Alex's hands and practically inhales it. Alex sucks in a sharp breath and stands up quickly.

 

"Are you talking to me or the coffee?" Alex asks, only halfway joking. John flips him off as he drinks the rest of the coffee.

 

"Ask me again in five minutes," he murmurs when he finally pulls away. Alex shakes his head, tries his damnedest to be civil and not angry and not jealous.

 

"Go shower," he says shortly. "You fucking stink. Then go sleep, you probably need it. I'm meeting up with Gil in an hour, so I won't be home."

 

John peers at him, blinks childishly in a way Alex shouldn’t find adorable and yet is still irrevocably charmed by. 

 

"Are you, like, dating Lafayette?" he asks without preamble. Alex nearly falls on his ass.

 

" _No_!" he shouts. God, he can feel his face on fire. He wonders if he's fucked up his whole plan now, if John thought he was dating Lafayette and had quashed any feelings for him. He _can't_ let that happen. "Oh my god. We're just friends."

 

John groans, squeezes his eyes shut. "Could you, like, not scream? _Hungover_. Anyway, you two just spend a lot of time together, I was curious."

 

Alex shakes his head fervently. "I'm not dating _anyone_ ," he stresses, hoping that John catches the message he's trying to send. John snickers.

 

"How the tables have turned, then," he laughs. "You're not dating anyone for once, and I am."

 

Everything inside Alex turns to ice.

 

John keeps snickering, but Alex can barely formulate a single thought. He finally manages to hiss, " _You're dating him_?"

 

His tone is sharp and angry enough that John looks at him in alarm. Immediately, he's defensive. "You don't even know who _he_ is, so don't get so pissed," he retorts. "And more than that, we aren't dating, we went on a date and he was a bad fuck, so there probably won't be another one."

 

Alex recoils like he's been slapped.

 

"Who?" he demands. He knows his behavior doesn't make sense, knows John probably doesn't understand why he's so angry, but he can't _help_ it. Something inside of him has snapped, broken by the thought that Alex had waited too long to come forward, shattered at the idea that he might not get another chance if John starts dating someone else.

 

John stands up. "Why do you _care_?" John snaps back. "Why are you so pissed? You've been trying forever to set me up with people, now that I find someone on my own I'm not allowed to date? _Fuck_ you. What's your deal, man?"

 

John smacks his shoulder into Alex's as he storms past, still clutching the coffee cup. Alex watches in mute anger as John stomps into the kitchen and throws the mug down. "No, seriously, fuck you!" John says, when Alex follows him into the kitchen furiously. "What the hell? Why are you so mad at me for fucking some guy one time? For God's sake, you've been saying I need to get laid for months!"

 

"Not with some fucking stranger while you're drunk off your ass, and not if it means you aren't going to let me know where you are and that you're _safe_!" Alex shouts. It strikes a chord with John; in an instant he goes rigid, all the anger melts out and all that is left is the shocked expression on his face. Alex quickly realizes this is his best way to save face, the only way he can salvage this fight without coming clean about his feelings and laying himself on the line, bare. "You didn't text."

 

There's no real heat behind his words now.

 

"Alex," John says, sounding strangled.

 

"I stayed up all night," Alex continues. He gestures helplessly. "I thought you were bleeding to death in some godforsaken alley and I told myself if you didn't come home by eight I'd search every damn street in New York City until I found your bleeding ass."

 

John looks hopelessly at Alex. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was okay," he murmurs. "But who I fuck or who I date is none of your business, and you don't get to be mad at me for testing out the waters for the first time since you've ever known me. For the record, his name was Francis and he was a bad lay so I wasn't planning on seeing him again. And I wasn't really planning on going on another date anytime soon.”

 

The breath gets knocked out of him then, taken like a hit from a punch, and all that’s left for Alex to do is gape and be stunned at John’s harsh reminders. He's right, of course. Alex has no right to be angry, no place to be jealous and condescending when he's the asshole who won't come clean about his feelings until he finds the time is right. He doesn't want John to date other people, doesn't want to lose John to some fucker names Francis who thought John was pretty but only enough for a quick screw—that doesn’t mean he gets to speak out about it. John is his, but he isn't. Alex feels like a piece of _shit_.

 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and John just rolls his eyes and pushes past Alex.

 

"It's whatever, man," he says, in typical John Laurens fashion, and that's when Alex knows they're going to be alright.

 

As soon as he hears John hop in the shower, he reaches for his phone to text Lafayette.

 

**To: laf**

[7:18] how to not be jealous when the object of your affection is seeing other people

 

**From: laf**

[7:19] you are asking the wrong person my friend

[7:19] is everything okay?

[7:20] we will talk more over breakfast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“This is how I felt when Hercules told me he was back in contact with Elizabeth,” is the first thing Lafayette says to Alex when he collapses into the booth at their favorite café. Alex groans, and they kindly push forward the orange juice and muffin they’d ordered earlier. Alex gratefully accepts.

 

“Like every breath in your body is labored and is going to be until you fucking _die_?” Alex whines around mouthfuls of muffin. Lafayette narrows their eyes.

 

Regardless, they reach across the table and pat Alex’s hand in reassurance. “Exactly like that,” they say, and Alex snorts and pulls his hand away.

 

“You’re supposed to be cheering me up, not reminding me that it fucking sucks to be in love with your best friend when there’s no immediate remedy or any sign you will ever get together,” Alex grumbles. Lafayette rolls their eyes.

 

“You are the one who insisted we _woo_ them instead of coming out upfront with our feelings,” Lafayette reminds him. Alex narrows his eyes in return.

 

He leans forward. “Are you telling me you would have come straight out and told Hercules outright that you were in love with him if I hadn’t provided you with the option to take your time and try to make him fall in love with you?”

 

Lafayette scowls. “Not the point.”

 

Alex crows, claps his hands together. “ _Exactly_ the point,” he says smugly. “We’re in the same fucking boat, my friend; don’t act like you’re better than me just because your man isn’t pursuing other people.”

 

Lafayette leans back. “Explain,” they say, and so Alex does.

 

He tells Laf about John coming home early in the morning, tells them about how when he stumbled through the door something inside Alex rotted away. He tells them how John got defensive, angry when Alex got accusatory. Finally, he tells Laf about how he couldn’t breathe throughout the entire conversation, how every cell in his being was tingling and on the verge of bursting.

 

“It sucks because I have no right to feel like fucking _dying_ because he slept with someone else, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to fucking die,” Alex finishes miserably. Lafayette takes his hand again, squeezes it tight, gives him sympathy that Alex didn’t know he needed.

 

“I know,” they murmur. “I was in this boat not too long ago and I didn’t handle it well either. This is what we get for choosing to keep our feelings to ourselves.”

 

Alex snorts. He realizes his face is wet, that he’s been crying just a bit, and he reaches up with his free hand to wipe away the residual tears. “Glad we’re getting punished for falling in love,” he states, going for a joke and failing greatly if the way Lafayette raises an unimpressed eyebrow is anything to go by. “I’d tell him tomorrow if I thought the feelings were requited. But I don’t think they are. And I don’t think they will be any time soon, because he thinks I’m dating other people and that kind of fucks up my entire plan.”

 

“He thinks you’re dating _me_ ,” Lafayette corrects him smugly. Alex throws a piece of muffin at them. “I’m sorry, it’s funny! John must be more oblivious than you are, and that’s saying something. Someday I’m sure he’s going to turn around and realize just how obvious it is that you’re in love with him and then the two of you will be fine.”

 

Alex keeps picking at his muffin, slouched in his seat and making too big a deal of his misery. “After Thanksgiving Break, it’s finals hell month. We’re all going to be so busy trying to keep our heads above water that my plan is going to have to go on the back burner. John isn’t going home for Thanksgiving, which is nice, but. I don’t know, I guess I’m just worried that too much time is going to go by and that I’m not going to be able to win him over because I wasted the little time we did have.”

 

Lafayette perks up a little and leans forward. “Hercules invited me to his family Christmas since I don’t have plans to go back to France.

 

“Shut up!” Alex shouts. He ignores the sharp glares from the other patrons in the café and grabs Lafayette’s wrist. “That’s some straight up trope-y rom-com shit right there. Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re going to get a boyfriend over Christmas Break.”

 

Lafayette laughs, pushes Alex’s hand off. “As if,” they chuckle. “I’ve got a month until it’s even time for me to go, not to mention the fact that a lot of things can happen in a month.”

 

“Yeah, you might get together even sooner,” Alex says sarcastically. Lafayette shakes their head. “I’m serious, man. People don’t just invite people over for holidays with their families unless it means something. Hell, Hercules has a big-ass family too. He wouldn’t bring you home just because. This is reason to celebrate!”

 

“I suppose you’re right,” Lafayette agrees. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, you know?”

 

Alex thinks about how all he wants is to tell John how he feels, to shout it from the rooftops, he wants to grab John and kiss him within an inch of his life. He thinks about how he’d give anything to be able to touch John and hold his hand and _be_ with him constantly, and he thinks about how he lives in constant fear that one day he’ll lay his heart on the line just enough to see it get broken. As desperately as he wants John, as much as he is willing to give anything for the chance to be his, Alex is terrified of rejection and the idea of John ever walking away from him.

 

People always walk away, always leave him behind.

 

He _does_ know, where Lafayette is coming from.

 

“I know, buddy,” Alex murmurs. “Trust me, I know.”

 

They sit in silence for a while after that, mulling over the loves they’d give anything for but can’t risk anything for. Once again Alex is struck by gratitude for Lafayette, relieved that they have each other to rely on while they struggle to come to terms with their feelings and everything else. He isn’t sure he could do this by himself, be in love with someone so close and so far without anyone to lean on.

 

He reaches across the table again and squeezes Lafayette’s hand. It’s a reminder, to both of them, that they’ve got each other.

 

They stay and chat for a little while, bitching about professors and work loads and trading stories until suddenly Lafayette looks up and grins.

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Schuyler!” they call out. Alex turns to see who they wave at, sees a familiar young woman standing by the door who smiles when she catches sight of Lafayette. She comes over then, still smiling as she stands at the head of the table.

 

“Lafayette,” she says, full of warmth and poise. “It’s been too long, I think.”

 

“Time spent away from you is always too long,” Lafayette says, standing up to press a kiss to her cheek. “You remember Alexander, right?”

 

She turns her eyes on him, and it clicks suddenly where he knows her from. “Eliza?”

 

She kisses his cheek. “Yes, that’s right,” she laughs. “I’m surprised you remember. If I recall correctly, you were pretty drunk when we met.”

 

Alex narrows his eyes. “If _I_ recall correctly, you were also pretty drunk. Before my friends and I even arrived. I think one of your sisters said something about the drinking game you were all playing before we showed up…?”

 

She snorts at that, then slides into the booth next to Lafayette. “I’ll give that to you,” she murmurs. “What are you up to?”

 

Lafayette kicks at Alex’s feet. “Alex and I try to go out to brunch at least once a week to bitch and moan about our life problems and to eat away our feelings. You know, typical behavior among friends.”

 

Eliza raises an eyebrow. “Firstly, if there’s one thing I know it’s that Alex’s best friend is the one with the curly hair—he made that very clear to everyone who tried to talk to that boy when we all hung out. And secondly, this seems too secretive to be just a meeting between friends, in my opinion.”

 

Alex groans, covers his face with his hands, and Lafayette lets out a booming laugh. “I do remember that; Alex kept telling everyone that John is _his_ best friend, not anyone else’s. _Mon Dieu_ , you were drunk, Alex.”

 

“Shut up,” he whines. “Also, let’s not forget the part where she implied we’re dating, pal. She’s the _second_ person to do that today. Maybe we need to spend less time together.”

 

“The second person today?” Eliza whistles. “Who was the first?”

 

“John,” Alex and Lafayette say in unison. Eliza smirks.

 

“Figures,” she laughs. “So. Which one of you is in love with him?”

 

Both Lafayette and Alex turn to stare at her in shock. What took Alex _months_ to figure out took her a mere ten seconds. “How the hell did you figure it out?” Alex gasps.

 

Her gaze turns to him. “So it’s you,” she says. Alex stiffens. “Don’t be shy, it’s okay to be in love. For god’s sake, being in love is the greatest feeling in the world. I’m sure Lafayette agrees. I’m guessing you’re in love with the other one, the one my sister works with? The clothes designer?”

 

Lafayette turns to Alex. “She’s _good_ ,” they whisper in shock. Eliza is still smirking from her corner of the booth. “You’re _good_.”

 

“So why are you guys so miserable?” she asks. “You’re young! You’re in love! Go be happy.”

 

“Neither of them know how we feel,” Alex explains. Something in Eliza’s expression softens. She reaches across the table to grasp hands with both Lafayette and Alexander, and she squeezes gently.

 

“You poor boys,” she sighs. “Welcome to my world, though.”

 

Alex cheers loudly. “Oh my god, we’re actually a club now! God almighty, how the hell did the three of us end up in each other’s lives? Lucky we all found each other. Seriously, do you guys want to meet on Thursday nights and do crafts or some shit?”

 

Lafayette blinks at Eliza. “I’m sorry, is there a universe in which Eliza Schuyler can’t get anybody she wants? What parallel world have I entered where she actually believes her feelings for whomever could be _unrequited_?”

  
Alex barely knows Eliza, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that they’re telling the truth about Eliza. She's beautiful, poised, effortlessly influential in a way Alex can’t comprehend. He doubts there is a single person in this world unable to fall in love with her.

 

She smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, there are often circumstances that make it harder for people to be together no matter what the feelings are. I’m sure one day I’ll get my happy ending. But you two—there’s nothing stopping you from being with the people you love. Take it from someone who would give anything in the world to be with the one I love—you’re afraid of being rejected, but I’ve met the two boys you’re in love with. Something tells me the four of you are going to be just fine.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Alex says. “Life is pretty damn messy sometimes, right?”

 

Eliza rolls her eyes. “Darling, you haven’t seen messy yet. Let me guess, you get in a petty argument with your John and now you think it’s the end of the world because you haven’t told him how you felt?”

 

Alex’s jaw drops. “How do you _do_ that?” he demands. Eliza smirks.

 

“I know everything,” she says with ease. “Take my advice. Go find him, drink a beer, joke about the upcoming holidays, make plans for Thanksgiving. Remind him that you guys are best friends, remind him that he needs you in his life and remind yourself that a petty fight isn’t going to change your relationship. I _promise_. I’ve had plenty of petty fights.”

 

Lafayette shakes their head. “Somehow, Eliza, I find it hard to imagine you ever being petty.”

 

She glances at him. “You’ve met my sisters,” she shoots back. They all share a small laugh at that. “Trust me, when you grow up in a household like that, you walk away with a lot more than wisdom and grace—like the ability to discern when you’re being petty, and how to be _good_ at it.”

 

Alex pulls out his phone to check the time and realizes he’s had a text from John sitting unread for about half an hour.

 

**From: Shithead <3**

[9:03] you comin home soon?

 

Alex purses his lips, glances up at Eliza and Lafayette who are engrossed in their own conversation.

 

**To: Shithead <3**

[9:29] yeah probably. remember eliza schuyler? she showed up at the cafe and i think she’s stealing laf.

 

**From: Shithead <3**

[9:30] good thing you guys aren’t dating then.

 

Alex sighs.

 

**To: Shithead <3**

[9:30] yeah

 

**From: Shithead <3**

[9:31] sorry. don’t wanna fight.

[9:32] see you soon?

 

Alex’s fingers hesitate above the keys. He’s still frustrated at John, mad even though he has no reason to be, and he knows John is mad with _every_ reason to be. But its barely been two hours and he _misses_ John, and all he wants to do right now is talk shit about reality television and drink a beer with his best friend.

 

Best friend—and love of his life, even if John doesn’t know it yet.

 

**To: Shithead <3**

[9:35] yeah i’ll leave in about 5

 

When he looks up again, he realizes Eliza and Lafayette are staring at him. “What?” he says defensively.

 

“John?” Lafayette guesses. Alex shoots him a sharp look.

 

“That one was pretty easy to guess, Alex, you wear your heart on your sleeve,” Eliza tells him. Alex throws his hands up in the air.

 

“That’s what I said!” Lafayette shouts, and they both laugh at Alex’s expense. “The first time, when I made him realize he was in love with John. Poor asshole wasn’t even aware before I was. Luckily I recognize when people are obvious with their feelings.”

 

“Obviously I’m _not_ obvious because _John_ doesn’t know,” Alex retorts back.

 

“Nice comeback,” Lafayette snorts. Alex narrows his eyes.

 

“I’m leaving,” he announces, and he throws down a twenty and shoots another sharp glare at both Eliza and Lafayette as he stands.

 

“Have fun with John,” she teases, winking at him conspiringly. Alex huffs and turns on his heel. As he stomps out, he hears his two friends laughing at him from the booth. _Fuckers_. “It was nice seeing you again, Alex!”

 

He turns around and flips off the table but he smiles at them as he goes. Assholes, every person he’s friends with.

 

Still, he wouldn’t trade it.

 

He spends the walk back to his apartment with his hands shoved in his pockets and his thoughts scattering through his brain. He thinks back over his plan, mulls over how none of it has gone the way he’s wanted to, wonders if it’s even working at all. When he realized he was in love with John, it hit him out of nowhere, blindsided him and drowned him and brought him to the light all at once. He thinks about how it took him _years_ to realize, took him so long just to realize something that had been engrained in him from the very moment he met John.

 

Part of him thinks that he’s been loving John since the second he laid eyes on him. Part of him thinks that the second their souls touched, Alex realized he had been born and made to love John with every fiber of his being.

 

The apartment is quiet when Alex gets home, John not in the kitchen or living room. He drops his keys in the bowl and goes to his room long enough to slip off his shoes and jacket. Then he toes his way through the hall and hesitates outside John’s bedroom.

 

“John?” he calls, timid. He hears John’s grunted response and pushes his way inside.

 

John sits on his bed, crosslegged with his laptop in front of him and his blankets wrapped around his shoulders. He looks up at Alex as he comes in.

 

“Are you still mad?” Alex hedges.

 

“Are you still going to judge me for going out when you pull this shit time after time?” John shoots back.

 

Alex winces. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, looking at the ground. “I deserve that,” he admits, as much as he doesn’t want to. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know why I got so upset.”

 

_Date who you want_ , he knows he should say.

 

_You’re free to be with anyone you want,_ he knows he should say.

 

“Sorry,” is what he ends up saying. John rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at him.

 

“Get over here, asshole. I started this new show called _The Get Down_ , and it has beautiful boys singing and I don’t want to watch it by myself.”

 

So Alex grins, and he climbs onto the bed with John and wraps himself in one of John’s blankets and realizes that Eliza was _right_ , the petty fights don’t matter. John’s his best friend—that _does_ belong to him. Everything else will melt away.

 

For the first time since he realized he was in love with John, Alex is filled with certainty that things are _absolutely_ going to work out for them. 


	7. imply you want a future with him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They always said they'd be best friends forever. Alex doesn't care what it takes, he's going to make sure that's the truth.

_—imply you want a future with him—_

 

 

 

 

Alex and John are in their kitchen making lunch on the Sunday before Thanksgiving when they get the call.

 

His phone rings, breaking the peaceful atmosphere created by Alex stirring the pasta and John grating cheese. They both pause when it starts to ring, glance at the phone, and Alex says, “Yours or mine?”

 

John puts the cheese down and wipes his hands on a towel before moving over to the ringing phone. He makes a strangled, shocked noise as he looks at the screen and picks up his phone. “It’s my _father_ ,” he says slowly, and Alex’s fingers slip from around the spoon.

 

“Dad?” John asks as he answers the phone, voice sounding smaller and more timid than Alex has ever heard him sound before. “Hi. No, it’s… It’s good to hear your voice, too.”

 

Alex drops the spoon and moves closer to John, bristled with worry. John glances at Alex with wide eyes. “School is going fine… Yeah, last year. I’m doing an internship right now, they’re considering offering me a job once I graduate… Yeah, I get to work with some really cool kids. I get to help them, Dad that’s what—oh. You…are?”

 

John sucks in a sharp breath. “Thanks?” he murmurs. “Dad, no offense, but—why are you calling?”

 

Alex waits with baited breath. Here is where the shoe drops, where John and his father finally get in the fight that’s been brewing between them ever since John announced he was moving to New York and studying to become a social worker instead of a doctor or a lawyer. Alex knows that this is what people do; they argue and then they walk away, and Alex is ready to be there for John when his father finally severs ties.

 

“She—” John starts, but his jaw snaps shut and his body goes rigid. Alex immediately reaches for John’s wrist, wrapping his fingers around it and staring at John’s face as he waits for any sign of hurt. John is a statue, eyes wide and emotionless, and he is barely breathing but Alex can feel him shaking just through his grip on his wrist. Alex wishes he could hear what’s going on, hear what John’s father is saying on the other line, but he can’t pick up any sounds. Suddenly John speaks, so clear it startles Alex. “No, I’ll be there. When does— Alright… You will?”

 

_What’s going on_? Alex thinks desperately. _Why isn’t John reacting?_

 

“I’ll see you,” he says with finality. Something in his expression falters after a moment, and his rigid posture is gone in an instant as he starts to sway on his feet. “I’ll be there soon, I promise… I love you, too.”

 

He hangs up the phone silently, and Alex is bursting with questions. John is barely able to set the phone down on the counter again before he whispers, “My mom’s sick,” and his whole body sags.

 

“ _John_ ,” Alex gasps, already wrapping his arms around John’s waist to steady him. John’s shaking in his grip, trembling as Alex tries to pull him back up. “John, _hey._ What’s going on? She’s sick? What’s wrong? How sick?”

 

“She’s in the hospital.” John’s gasping now, gasping for air and struggling to get the words out. “God, it’s bad, she’s _sick—_ Alex—”

 

Alex manages to maneuver him long enough to get him to the couch, to sit John down and wrap him in a blanket and pull him close again. John’s still shaking, out of shock Alex presumes, and Alex does everything he can to hold him still.

 

“They want me to come down,” John’s whispering. “My dad is booking me a flight right now. I’ve… I’ve got to pack, I have to get ready to go… My mom could die, I—I need to be there, I have to go—”

 

Alex hushes him, sways back and forth as much as he can as they sit on the couch. “John, breathe. You’ll go, I promise. Take a deep breath for me. Is the flight going to be today?” A nod. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to pack—don’t argue with me, I know what you like to pack more than anyone else. I’m going to pack you a bag, I’m going to go take lunch of the burner and you’re going to eat some while I pack you a bag. Then I’ll drive you to the airport, okay? You just need a second to process. Stay here.”

 

So Alex goes and he gets John a plate of pasta and makes sure John starts to eat, and he goes and puts away the remainder of lunch, and he digs out an old duffel bag from the depths of John’s closet and starts throwing clothes in. He realizes that John’s favorite hoodie to wear when he flies is in Alex’s room, so Alex goes and takes it and lays in on John’s bed so he doesn’t forget about it. Alex makes sure he packs some of his own hoodies, knowing that they’ll reassure John even though John won’t admit it.

 

Okay, and maybe he’s hoping it will remind John that Alex is unapologetically there for him, his greatest comfort and support, even when they’re miles apart. Alex is nothing if not a multi-tasker.

 

Periodically he checks on John, makes sure John is still eating and still functioning, and eventually he’s packed the duffel bag with everything John will want and need, and he’s made sure John’s backpack is stocked with everything he’ll need on the plane.

 

John’s not on the couch when Alex drags out the bags and his hoodie. He hears John puttering around in the kitchen, so he puts the bags next to the door alongside John’s messenger bag and keys, and takes the hoodie with him to the kitchen. John’s standing in front of the sink staring out the window and he startles when Alex clears his throat. “Your bags are packed,” Alex says softly. He holds up the hoodie. “And here’s this.”

 

Something in John’s expression finally softens. “My flight hoodie?” he asks, timid. He takes it gingerly when Alex hands it off to him. “Is this a surrender in the Great Hoodie War?”

 

Alex smirks despite himself. “Consider it a temporary alliance. Are you ready to go?”

 

John nods. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that you managed to pack everything I need.”

 

So John puts on his favorite sweatshirt for flights and Alex grabs all the things they’ll need and helps load them and John into the car they’d borrowed from Herc for the weekend. John’s silent for the drive, and for once Alex can’t think of anything to say either. He’s lost everyone in his life, he knows how it feels to lose a mother—and yet he has no words to comfort John as he goes headfirst into this terrifying experience. His mother _could_ die. That’s what he’d said to Alex. That’s no guarantee either way. There’s no time limit on how long John is going to spend down there, whether he’ll stay until she passes or if she even will or if she’ll get better. The whole thing is a guessing game and it’s driving Alex insane. He wishes he knew what to say to John. He wishes he knew how long this would _last_.

 

“Thank you,” John whispers. He’s curled up in the passenger seat, knees close to his chest, with his head resting on the window and his arms resting on his legs. His hoodie is too big for him, in the sleeves extending past his hands and the whole ensemble makes John look so young and small and _afraid_ that Alex is terrified to speak and shatter the illusion. “Thank you for knowing what to do.”

 

John sucks in a breath after that, shaky and hurried, and Alex knows in that instant that he doesn’t need words to reassure John. Automatically, he reaches for John’s hand with his own and intertwines their fingers. The familiar weight, the pressure of Alex’s hand as he squeezes John’s, the feeling of someone else holding on so you don’t have to—Alex knows that this is what John needs more than anything else at this point. The rest of the car ride is silent, spent with hands entwined and hearts racing.

 

Alex helps John take his stuff in, walks him as far as he can go as John collects the ticket his father bought for him and gets ready to leave. They stand by each other when they reach the point that Alex can’t go any farther, still holding hands. It’s a crossroads, intersecting where their fingers twine and brush against each other; neither ready to let go, nor quite willing to. John’s face is open, afraid, and Alex realizes now that he’s not the only person to wear his heart on his sleeve.

 

“You’re going to be okay, John,” Alex whispers by way of reminder.

 

John lets go of his hand and wraps Alex in a hug, buries his face in Alex’s jacket and chest and lets out a breathy sob. “Thank you,” he breathes. “ _Again_. I couldn’t have gotten here without your help. I don’t—I’ll never deserve you, Alexander Hamilton.”

 

Alex laughs, breathless and shocked. “That’s absolutely not true,” he murmurs. “Now go, you’ve got a flight to catch. Text me, call me every day, okay? You’re going to be okay. I want updates. And be safe, asshole.”

 

“Shithead,” John mumbles. He squeezes Alex tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.”

 

It takes every ounce of will he has in his being not to start to cry as he stands. Alex presses a kiss top the top of John’s head. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

 

_More than you even realize_.

 

He watches John walk away, watches as John goes through security unaware that he’s got Alex’s heart in his hands, and all Alex can do is pray that he comes home soon, pray that this endeavor doesn’t end with heartbreak.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: Shithead <3**

[5:47] landed in sc. dad had a car waiting for me, going to the hospital now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_One Missed Call From: Shithead <3_

 

_Play Voicemail._

 

_"Hey, asshole. Just thought I'd call and check up on you and and the others. You might still be in class, I thought I'd waited long enough you'd be out, but. Anyway. Ma says hi; crazy woman doesn't know you but she's ready to replace me with you already. She's...doing okay. Surgery is tonight. They had an opening, got her a kidney. Dialysis is kicking her ass. I think it's kicking all of our asses, honestly. Martha comes and goes. The smart little brat is on track to graduate high school early so she's been going back and forth between the school and the hospital. Henry says hi. You guys talked on the phone once I think... Anyway. I'll stop leaving the world's longest, saddest voicemail and just. Just call me back when you can? I'm gonna go hold Ma's hand before they take her for prep. Miss you."_

 

_Voicemail saved, from: November 22._

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: Shithead <3**

[7:30] how's surgery going?

[8:59] john?

 

**To: laurens**

[9:03] hey m8 alex is pacing the whole apartment and stressing the rest of us out. are you okay? is your mom okay?

 

**To: jean valjohn**

[10:12] john. we are worried. alex and hercules are about to book flights to sc. please let us know you are okay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_[Hey, you've reached John Laurens. If you're getting this, I'm probably busy saving kittens' lives or murdering Alex in Mario Kart. Leave a message after the beep!]_

 

_Beep._

 

"John. I know it's late, but. I'm worried. We all kind of are, but I'm... And. I don't know. I just hope you're okay. Please call one of us tomorrow. Or text. Just let us know you're alive. We miss you. And... we love you. Be safe."

 

_Voicemail saved, from: November 23._

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Alex."

 

They don't get a response.

 

"Alexander."

 

He finally looks up from his laptop, sees Hercules and Lafayette standing above him with mirrored expressions of worry. "What?" he croaks, and god it's been a while since he's spoken out loud.

 

"Have you slept at all since Sunday?" Lafayette asks gently. Alex refreshes the feed of the Beaufort Gazette Twitter.

 

"Not really," he admits, too tired to lie. There are probably tens of thousands of empty Monster cans in his room, inhaled as he desperately scouted online for news about the South Carolinian senator's family and as he waited for a single word from John.

 

"Alex, its Thanksgiving," Hercules says. "Come be with us. We're all worried. Let us take care of you so John doesn't come home to you hospitalized for dehydration."

 

It's a weak attempt at a joke, a sorry excuse to try and lighten the mood, break the tension that's settled in John's place during his absence and left everyone feeling high strung. They all know it, and yet none of them have the energy to even fake a laugh.

 

"He hasn't called," Alex says flatly. "Or texted. The Beaufort Gazette got word yesterday that Senator Laurens' wife was sick and they're the only connection we have to John right now. I just need..."

 

Lafayette puts a hand on his arm, and Alex cracks. He starts to cry, out of sheer exhaustion and out of worry. That's all it takes for his friends to wrap him up in their embraces, to hold him as he finally lets the tears take over, tears he hasn't let fall since he dropped John off at the airport days ago. He's been working himself into a coma; he knows that now.

 

But he can't help that John isn't here, and isn't replying, and he can't change the fact that his absence has left a void in Alex's life that cannot be filled.

 

Part of him worries John is never coming home.

 

Hercules and Lafayette force him into the shower, and when he sits on the floor and wallows for too long they force him out. Hercules lays out a nice outfit that Lafayette helps him put on, and they stuff him in the backseat of a cab between the two of them.

 

“Where are we going,” Alex murmurs quietly. Lafayette squeezes Alex’s hands and Hercules presses his shoulder against his.

 

“The Schuyler household,” Lafayette says.

 

“A grocery store,” Hercules corrects. “To buy a pie. Because Lafayette didn’t make one. Like he promised.”

 

“The Schuyler’s invited us over for Thanksgiving since you’re a pile of misery and Hercules doesn’t want to deal with his family, we are going to join them,” Lafayette says, shooting Hercules a sharp look. “And you are gong to socialize, as friends do, because you need the comfort of your friends.”

 

“ _The grocery store_ ,” Hercules says again, to the taxi driver who glares at all of them. “Just go to the bodega on the corner of 5th. Jesus Christ, man.”

 

“Why are we taking a taxi?” Alex asks.

 

“Because none of us should be driving since we’re all getting shitfaced tonight,” Hercules answers him, easily enough. Alex nods in satisfaction; drinking is good. Drinking will take his mind off of John’s absence and silence.

 

They get their pie and Lafayette and Hercules bicker with Alex in between them, and eventually they make their way upstate enough to the Schuyler household. Whatever Alex was unable to say before completely leaves him now as he looks up at the building in shock. “I’m sorry; guys, are we friends with the daughters of _Governor Schuyler_?”

 

Hercules smacks Alex’s leg. “How many Schuylers do you know, dipshit?” he laughs. “Are you only just figuring this out?”

 

The beauty and subtle grandeur of the building alone are enough to help Alex make the connection between the poise the Schuyler sisters possess and their obvious upbringing. They’re greeted by a doorman on their way up to the top floor, and Alex suddenly feels far too underdressed in his slacks and sweater combo.

 

Eliza opens the door to them, wearing a similar slack and sweater combo, and Alex feels a bit better. “Why, Alexander,” she laughs when she takes in his appearance. “I didn’t know we were coordinating this event.”

 

“It seems green is a color that brings out the best in everyone’s complexion,” Alex says, winking. She swats at him playfully but accepts his hug when he goes in, maybe lingering a bit longer when he clings a bit too tight.

 

He thinks he might imagine it, but her breath dances near his ear as she whispers, “Don’t you worry so much about your John.”

 

He doesn’t have time to process, time to think before she’s pulled away and moved on to give Lafayette and Hercules hugs of their own. “Peggy and Angelica are in the kitchen with Mother, making sure everything is arranged. My father is in a meeting; typical of a politician come holiday season. He’ll join us soon. Oh, I’m so glad you all could make it!”

 

Eliza shows them through her home, gives them brief glances of the rooms they pass as they make their way into the kitchen. There, Angelica and Peggy sit on stools bickering about desserts while a woman in a grey apron behind them moves around plates. Peggy squeals when she sees Hercules and practically falls off her chair to rush to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Mother, this is that boy I was telling you about,” Peggy gushes. “My god, you should have _seen_ his designs! He gave me a sneak peek before he took them to his boss, and I just knew they were going to be selling top shelf before he knew it.”

 

Mrs. Schuyler smiled kindly at all of them as they enter the kitchen. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Hercules. Peggy here says such kind things about you,” she says. She wipes her hands on her apron and hands it off to Angelica before coming to stand in front of Alex and Lafayette. “And I take it you’re the other two people my daughters can’t keep quiet about.”

 

“Alexander,” Alex says, offering her his hand.

 

“And such manners!” she laughs. “The teacher, right?”

 

“Gilbert, madame, but most people call me Lafayette,” they say. They look a bit wary, as Lafayette normally does meeting new people, and Alex puts a hand on their back in reassurance as Mrs. Schuyler smiles at him.

 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Lafayette,” she says. “Such handsome friends my daughters have. Lafayette, Angelica tells me you’re a painter?”

 

Lafayette relaxes fractionally. “Yes,” they breathe. “I actually just sold some of my work to buyers overseas. I will graduate with an art history degree come the end of the year, and I will continue painting so long as I continue to get commissions.”

 

“That’s wonderful! My, you’ll have to show me some of your work sometime. My home feels so droll somedays; I’d love something fun and full of energy to brighten the place up. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if our family commissioned you?”

 

She takes Lafayette by the arm and leads him out of the kitchen, winking at the sisters as they all turn on Alex and Hercules. Peggy narrows her eyes at Alex.

 

“Why is he sad?” she asks. “He needs wine.”

 

“Peggy Schuyler, you are barely twenty years old, do not _touch_ that wine,” Angelica reminds Peggy, stopping the younger sister before she can get too far. Peggy huffs indignantly. “Alex _does_ need wine, though. Copious amounts. Be a lamb, Pegs, go grab us the drinking glasses?”

 

Peggy sticks her tongue out at her sister but goes regardless to collect the glasses for the others. Angelica takes Alexander’s hand. “What’s gotten you so stressed out?”

 

Hercules sighs. “John’s fucked off to South Carolina to be with his dying mother and he hasn’t been in contact with any of us since Monday, and Alex is constantly planning out his rescue trip to South Carolina because it’s possible John’s mom passed away.”

 

The kitchen is silent save for the sharp intake of breath everyone sucks in at the same time. Hercules sighs, long and deep, as Peggy returns with the wine glasses. “Uhhh…” she drawls. “What’d I miss?”

 

“Hercules being a buzzkill on _Thanksgiving_ ,” Alex retorts. He pulls away from Angelica’s grip. “I’m fine. I just need wine. Lots of wine. And anything stronger, probably, later on. Just—distractions. So I _don’t_ book an impulse flight and fly out to no-man’s land?”

 

Eliza plucks a glass out of Peggy’s hands and immediately fills it with wine, handing it off to Alex. “Drink,” she commands. So Alex does.

 

The buzz definitely takes away from the impulse to hop on the first flight he can.

 

They sit down for dinner not long after, when Philip Schuyler is finally able to join them, and they gather around the long dinner table surrounded by a Thanksgiving feast unlike anything Alex has seen before.

 

“White man’s holiday,” Alex mutters, mostly to himself. It makes him think of John—their shared disinterest in Thanksgiving is something Alex is only just beginning to realize he cherishes. He starts to cry a little bit.

 

“No more wine for Alexander,” Lafayette announces, moving to take the glass from in front of Alex. Alex grabs their arm and sniffs loudly.

 

“This is my first real Thanksgiving, with like, Thanksgiving food and people gathering and all,” Alex says. “Cut me some slack—I don’t know how to react, okay? Just… tell me you don’t do that tradition where you go around the table and say what you’re thankful for.”

 

Philip Schuyler shares a _look_ with his daughters, and Alex feels like a piece of shit. “We don’t have to,” Schuyler says easily enough, like it’s no big deal that Alex just came into his home and shit all over his family traditions.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “God, I’m—”

 

“Alexander has only been in the states for a few years,” Hercules cuts in smoothly. “His previous Thanksgivings before this one were him sitting on a bed with his roommates eating turkey sandwiches and drinking. I think what Alex is trying to say is that he’s nervous but he’s glad to be here. Alex, would you like to add what you’re thankful for?”

 

_Hercules Mulligan,_ Alex thinks, nearly crying with relief. He sits back in his seat.

 

“A good meal surrounded by incredible people,” he says.

 

“Here, here,” Lafayette says, raising their own wine glass. Everyone smiles at them. “I would like to add—I am thankful for the opportunities this year has brought me, and my art. I owe a lot of what has happened to the support of my friends.”

 

“I’m thankful for people who stick around,” Hercules says.

 

“I’m thankful to Peggy, for bringing these insane, incredible boys into our lives,” Eliza adds.

 

“For Angelica, for letting me have some of her wine back in the kitchen,” Peggy says, winking at her sisters. Her father laughs, and her mother just quietly pours her a glass of her own.

 

“I’m thankful for a job that’s giving me a chance to make a difference,” Angelica continues. “And to the professor that helped me land it.”

 

“This family,” Mrs. Schuyler adds. “As I am every year, I am so very grateful for my three, beautiful daughters.”

 

“For my wife,” Schuyler adds. “And my daughters, and their friends. And for the reminder that sometimes traditions are cliche.” There’s laughter around the table, though Alex is too busy blushing and trying to hide to laugh. “Let’s dig in.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner has been eaten, once, twice, three times served, they take plates of pies and cakes and gather in front of the television.

 

“Normally we put on a Christmas movie, but,” Schuyler says. “We’re learning tonight that it’s good to change up traditions. How about that horror movie you were telling us about, Peggy? You rented it, didn’t you?”

 

The movie plays and their ragtag gang digs into their desserts, and Alex curls up on himself at the edge of the couch and he thinks about John and he thinks about how much he misses him. He thinks about how John would love this; they always say Thanksgiving is overrated, but he thinks John would appreciate the opportunity to gather with his found-family and celebrate the fact that they’re together. Alex thinks about how he never wants to spend another Thanksgiving without John, and then he thinks about how often he’s been thinking about keeping John in his life forever.

 

He loves John, he knows. And logically he knows that when people are in love for long enough, they make plans to stay together forever. It strikes him that all he wants is to spend the rest of his life waking up with John by his side. He wants to plan Thanksgiving dinners, wants to have countless Netflix marathons, wants to spend day after day after day coming home to John in the place they’ve built together.

  
He has that now. He has John by his side every day, he has the home they’ve built and the marathons and the dinners. He thinks that maybe he could be satisfied if that’s all he could ever have. But then he thinks about kissing John awake every morning and kissing him goodnight before bed, thinks about holding his hand in public and introducing him to his students as _my boyfriend_ , and he thinks about how much he’s missed John in the few days he’s been gone.

 

Alex is fucked. He’s known that for a long time, known he was damning himself the second he realized he was in love with his best friend. He wants and he wants, but he’s scared to move and he’s scared of being left behind. God, he wishes John were here. He’d think clearer, he’d be able to _breathe._

 

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

 

Alex practically _flies_ out of his seat.

 

He gasps out a half assed apology as he runs out of the room, hands shaking and fingers already digging through his pocket for his phone. Every part of him is trembling, his entire body on fire; logic tells him its the alcohol, but his heart tells him it’s relief.

 

_Call from: Shithead <3_

 

“John?” Alex gasps, stepping out onto a balcony. It’s _freezing_ outside, the November chill eating at his skin, but he’s too busy shaking and he’s far too tipsy to notice the cold. All he can focus on is how _desperately_ he needs to hear John’s voice.

 

“Hey, asshole.”

 

He sounds small, tired, worn in a way Alex has never heard before—but he sounds like _John_ and Alex nearly sobs in relief. “My god,” he murmurs. “John, I—Are you okay? What happened? What’s going on, why haven’t you called? I—we’ve—god, we’ve been so worried.”

 

Alex laughs, shaky and forced. Alex’s heart is _pounding_. “Y’all shouldn’t be wasting your worry on me.” His accent is thicker, highlighted by the time he’s been spending surrounded by his family, and Alex wants to cry. He raises his free hand to his face and realizes he _is_ crying, tear tracks trailing down his cheeks. “M’sorry,” John continues, mumbling. Alex is straining to hear him but _god_ it’s worth it, he’ll take anything he can get. “Ma, she—surgery didn’t go well. There was internal bleeding. They induced her into a coma, but. She’s better now… She’s waking up. She’s. She’s gonna be okay.”

 

Everything inside Alex sags in relief at the news. “Oh, god,” he whispers. “John, I’m so glad.”

 

John laughs, breathlessly, and says, “I’m. I’m relieved, I think. I’m not sure I could have handled it if she would have…”

 

“I know,” Alex whispers. “I’m sorry.”

 

“How do you do it?” John whispers, and it dawns on Alex suddenly why John hasn’t called him, why he disappeared. “How do you go on after everyone in your life left you?”

 

John feels _guilty_. God, Alex could kiss him stupid. John feels guilty and he’s scared and he doesn’t know where to go from here, doesn’t know how to move on whether his mom lives or dies, doesn’t realize that even though everyone has walked out on Alex that _no one_ is going to walk away from John. “I had no other choice,” Alex tells him. “It’s a shitty thing to say and it’s a shitty thing to hear but when they left me I was young, I had no choice but to move on. You adapt, you do, and you find family and love and support in other places and you hold on. And you hope…” Alex hesitates.

 

“You hope that someone stays.”

 

John takes a shaky breath, even cutting in and out from the poor connection. “What if everyone leaves me?”

 

His voice is so small, so afraid and so unlike John that Alex can feel something inside of himself starting to shatter. All he wants to do is reassure John that that’ll never come to pass, that no one in his life is going anywhere. There aren’t enough words in the English language that he can string together well enough to iterate the fact that he himself will _never_ leave John’s side.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. It’s not enough, but he tries anyway. “Everyone else could walk away, or leave, and I’d still be there. No matter what.”

 

“No matter what?” John repeats. Its a mantra, now; _no matter what, no extenuating circumstances, till death do us part._

 

“I’ll be there for as long as you’ll have me,” Alex promises. 

 

John lets out a long breath, one Alex suspects he’s been holding for a while. “Thanks,” John breathes, and Alex rubs his palm over his eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry, but. I gotta go. Martha just got here, my mom’s coming to. I—”

 

“Yeah, go,” Alex says quickly. “Just, like. Don’t disappear for a few days again? You really had us all worried.”

 

John snorts. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. I promise.”

 

“Hey,” Alex blurts out. “Miss you. Shithead.”

 

“Miss you more, asshole. I’m gonna try to come home soon, if she keeps getting better. Can’t miss classes, you know.”

 

Alex smiles despite himself. “Good. I can’t wait.”

 

He goes back inside when the phone call disconnects, realizing as he steps back into the warmth that he can’t feel his fingers or the tip of his nose at all. Lafayette is waiting by the door with a blanket and a glass of wine, looking at Alex carefully. “What that John?” they hedge. Alex nods, and Lafayette’s shoulders droop as they let out a breath of relief. “Thank god. Here, you must be frozen. Also, in need of a drink, I’m guessing.”

 

“She’s okay,” Alex tells Lafayette, accepting the blanket and shivering as Laf helps him wrap it around his shoulders. “His mom.”

 

“Good,” Lafayette breathes.

 

So Alex drinks in celebration, relieved that John’s okay and reassured by John’s call, and hopeful for his return. He drinks and he has fun with the family he made on his own, a group of people he knows will stick by his side now no matter what. His phone buzzes with a text and he reads it and smiles all night and drinks a little more. When they finally pile into a cab to go home, Lafayette and Hercules walk Alex to the door and he stumbles his way into his and John’s home.

 

And, if he makes his way to John’s bed and collapses into it, well—he’s drunk, he can’t be to blame. And John is _okay_ and coming _home_. Alex doesn’t blame himself at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: Shithead <3**

[11:28] this thanksgiving i’m thankful that your dumbass is in my life.


	8. share beds - excessively

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John needs to come home - soon.

_share beds — excessively_

 

 

 

 

In John’s absence, Alex starts to do a lot of stupid things.

 

On the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving, Alex is wallowing in his own misery and lying in his bed when he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything except a lime to chase his tequila shots Thanksgiving night. He knows John would not approve, so he forces himself out of bed and stumbles into the kitchen to fry up some bacon and make himself eat.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s shirtless until the grease burns him.

 

On Sunday, he sulks all day and ignores texts from his friends in favor of marathoning _The Get Down_ , and promptly feels like shit for watching it all without John.

 

Monday morning comes bearing a migraine large enough to rival earthquakes, so he calls in sick to his student teaching without realizing he’d scheduled a test today, and he gets about thirteen panicked emails from his students before it hits him.

 

He botches one of his final essays, barely even puts effort into it, and his professor calls him down after class to ask him what the hell happened. Alex can’t find the words to say that he just didn’t give a shit about the essay, because his best friend and subsequent love of his life is still fucking around in South Carolina with his dying mother.

 

He gets really drunk that night, and when he wakes up in the morning next to a stranger and he thinks, _god, I’m really fucking up_.

 

Alex decides he’s done enough stupid shit since John’s been gone, so he limits himself to not leaving bed and browsing the internet to pick fights with people on Twitter. On Tuesday he gets a call from John.

 

“Hey, shithead,” he greets. “Still fucking shit up in South Carolina?”

 

“That’s what I’m best at,” John agrees. “Mom’s doing well enough that they think she can go home soon, which means Dad is back to being his regular asshole self. The kids don’t know who’s side to take. Everything’s back to normal! Livin’ the fucking dream.”

 

Alex shakes his head. “I’m sorry, man,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry you’ve got dicks for parents.”

 

“I want to say be glad you don’t have any, but something tells me that’s insensitive,” John retorts. Alex can practically hear him cringe. “Sorry. I should have kept that thought to myself. God, I’m so tired.”

 

“S’okay,” Alex tells him, even if it isn’t a little bit. “You’ve had a long week. And you’re right, anyway. My dad was a dick, too. Ma was good but sick all the time.”

 

John lets out a long sigh. “I just need to come home. Being here is fucking with my brain. I can practically _feel_ myself becoming more and more of an asshole the longer I stay here. It’s screwing with me, man.”

 

“Come home,” Alex suggests. His heart is hammering painfully in his chest, desperate in his wanting for John to come back to him after so much time. He’s used to John being at his side constantly; he _needs_ it back.

 

“Yeah,” John laughs humorlessly. “I’m trying. As soon as we get Mom back home and settled I want to come back. Dad…he was trying to be nice about the whole ‘we have different opinions on my career path’ thing, but now that Mom’s not, like, dying he’s back to his regular dickhead self. Guess I had to learn my shithead behaviors from somewhere, right?”

 

“Hey,” Alex says quickly. “ _No_. There’s a difference between being a shithead and being a dick attempting father. You’re _good_ , John. You’re inherently good, you behave like a shithead because that’s how your friends know you love them. Your dad is controlling and manipulative and an asshole and it isn’t okay because he doesn’t put any love behind it, it’s all in an attempt to control. That’s the difference. You’re not _like_ him.”

 

The other line is silent for too long. Finally, John sucks in a sharp breath and says, “I don’t deserve you, you know that? What the hell. Thanks, man. I—thanks.”

 

Alex wants to _cry_. John breaks his heart sometimes, John thinks he’s worth nothing except the dirt under his nails and Alex could write _sonnets_ about how the _world_ doesn’t deserve John Laurens. God, one day he’s going to show John that any insecurity he’s ever had has been for naught, and he’s going to kiss away every shadow of doubt. John has more _good_ in his pinky finger than his father will ever possess in his entire life. Alex wishes there was some way he could convince John of this now, but he settles for the fact that one day he’ll be able to kiss John without fret and he hopes that it’ll be enough.

 

“Shut up,” Alex says desperately. There isn’t a strong enough argument to compel John now that he’s worth more than any of them will ever be. “Don’t let it go to your head, shithead. You’re a good person, but god if you put an ego on you, I think you’ll be insufferable.”

 

John actually laughs at that. “My god, I miss you.”

 

He has no clue what that does to Alex.

 

“I miss you, too,” Alex whispers.

 

“Yeah, well,” John continues. “I’m probably coming home soon. I can’t really miss much more class—professors say I have until next week before I’m really fucked if I’m not home. God, and my internship. It’s a good thing I was almost done with that one because my boss is going to murder me for being gone so long.”

 

Alex closes his eyes and silently sends out a prayer to whomever could be out there listening. To John, he says, “ _Good_.”

 

They talk for a little bit longer. John asks what he’s missed and Alex asks how his family is doing. After a while, John sighs. “Hate to do this, because it’s been a while since we’ve been able to just catch up. I feel like I’m missing so much… Anyway. I have to go, my dad just got back from wherever he went.”

 

Alex tries to swallow his disappointment. “Yeah, no,” he says quickly. “I have—like, essays, I guess.”

 

“Hey,” John says. “I’m coming back soon. Don’t kill yourself with your workload while I’m gone. I’m not looking to find a roommate to replace you if you rot away. Eat a meal or two. Sleep more than an hour?”

 

“Don’t murder your father?” Alex retaliates. “Take care of yourself, man. See you soon.”

 

“See you soon.”

 

When the phone call disconnects, Alex continues to sit on the couch and mope. There’s a few texts from Laf on his phone, ignored while he was taking the call from John.

 

**From: laf**

[7:25] want to get chinese food and bitch about our sad love lives?

[7:32] i’m guessing you’re on the phone with john bc you have no other reason to ignore me

[7:32] unless you’re moping a g a i n

[7:39] text me later mon ami

 

**To: laf**

[7:45] sorry buddy. come on over i’ll order the chinese

 

 

* * *

 

 

To add to the list of stupid things Alex has done in John’s absence, he adds another one after Lafayette finally leaves for the night and he’s cleaned up the food. He sits in the kitchen for a minute, stares out the window and stares at John’s coffee mug and stares and thinks. John’s coming home _soon_.

 

“Not soon enough,” Alex thinks sourly. He leaves the kitchen and wanders down the hall, stopping in front of John’s room.

 

Here’s where his stupid idea comes to mind.

 

He pushes his way into John’s room, closes the door softly behind him and pads his way to John’s bed. For a moment he stands at the foot of it, biting his lip and debating on whether or not he should really do this.

 

Alex climbs into John’s bed and burrows in the sheets, wraps himself in the blankets, and takes a deep breath. An overwhelming sense of _John_ takes him over, and Alex feels more relaxed now than he has since John left a week ago. _God_ , it’s stupid, he knows he shouldn’t be there—he’s probably crossing so many lines, he knows that he shouldn’t be doing this.

 

In his defense, John _did_ tell him to sleep.

 

It’s a piss-poor excuse and Alex knows it, but he’s drifting in and out of sleep so rapidly that he can’t rationalize feeling guilty. He just wants to _sleep_. He’s finally able to sleep, finally feels relaxed enough that he thinks he could sleep for a good few hours now.

 

So he does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eliza takes one look at him Wednesday afternoon and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, darling, you’re not doing well at all.”

 

Alex laughs pitifully, collapsing into the chair across from her. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“When does he come home?” she asks. She extends her hand to him, squeezes his fingers when he grabs onto it. Alex shrugs in response. “He’s been gone for over a week now; he’s got to be coming home soon, right? Isn’t his mom doing better?”

 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “He thinks that over the weekend he’ll be able to come back home. I just—god, I hope so. I don’t want to keep doing this. I’m… doing a lot of stupid shit, Eliza. I didn’t realize how much of my impulse control John was. He’s literally always there to tell me when I’m about to do stupid shit, and now he’s not.”

 

“Burning yourself on bacon grease isn’t something to beat yourself up over, Alex,” Eliza reminds him gently.

 

“Bailing on your friends because you’d rather stay at home and mope all day is, however,” argues Alex. “Abandoning your students because you don’t feel like working is. Fucking up an essay that you could have essay passed is.”

 

Alex takes a shaky breath.

 

“Sleeping in your best friend’s bed while he’s gone is,” he finishes quietly. Eliza gives him a soft look.

 

“Oh, Alexander,” Eliza soothes. “You really _do_ need him to come home.”

 

Alex laughs. “Thanks,” he says without heat. “Anyway. Enough about me. I feel like we never talk about you! You mentioned that you might have someone…?”

 

Eliza shakes her head and smiles shyly. “You’re a damn menace,” she sighs. “Trying to change the subject doesn’t take away from your pain. But I suppose we _can_ take a quick detour. My someone… it’s a complicated situation, like I’ve said before. There are feelings, neither of us can deny that. But there’s extenuating circumstances and I’m not willing to cross the boundaries until those circumstances are resolved. Until then, we’re content with what we have. Friends, with the promise of something more.”

 

Alex blinks. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 

“Neither do I, most days,” Eliza admits. “Like I said, it’s complicated. But she’s worth it—worth the wait. That’s ultimately what I have to keep reminding myself.”

 

“Won’t I ever get the full story?” asks Alex.

 

“One day,” laughs Eliza. “She’s…married.”

 

Realization dawns on Alex, then. “I see.”

 

“She’s married to an abusive lawyer,” Eliza continues.

 

“ _Oh_ , shit,” Alex says awkwardly.

 

Eliza smiles without any real energy. “Hence, the complications. We’ve both acknowledged the fact that we do indeed have feelings for each other, but I’m unwilling to act on them until her divorce is final, for several reasons. I’m worried what he might do to her, my moral compass says to wait… So we wait.”

 

“Don’t ever let me say I’ve got it hard again,” Alex blurts out. “My god, Liz, is there anything I can do?”

 

Eliza smirks wickedly. “You can distract _me_ and tell me why you thought it was a good idea to start sleeping in your roommates bed while he’s in a different state going through a familial crisis?”

 

“Ouch,” he sighs. “I don’t know! I know it’s not a good idea. But goddamn, I fucking miss him. He keeps saying, _soon I’m coming home soon_ , but it just feels like an empty promise. Plus, his bed has like, a million pillows and blankets. It’s a thousand times comfier than mine. And it happens to make me feel like he’s a little bit closer. So…win win?”

 

She rolls her eyes like that, and they chatter mindlessly while they study and somewhere in the middle of it all Alex realizes just how grateful he is for Eliza. They haven’t known each other long but he has a feeling she’s got a steady part in his future and he’s thankful for it for a reason he can’t quite place. When he tries to voice as much to Eliza, she levels him with an amused stare.

 

“I’m a social work and psychology major with an emphasis on child development, I’m actively involved in several activist clubs on campus, I take no shit, and I put up with you,” she says evenly. “From what I can tell, you have a _type_ , Alexander Hamilton.”

 

Alex blushes at that. “I wasn’t—trying to _make a move_ ,” he argues. He’s sure he’s beet-red. “I’m just glad you’re here, is all. It’s different than hanging out with Laf, or Herc, or John for that matter. I didn’t ever really want to expand my friend group; the more people you let in, the more people who can hurt you, you know?”

 

Eliza gives him a sad look. “Oh, darling,” she murmurs. “I won’t go anywhere. Believe it or not, the shared shithead behavior in your little gang is something all of us are very fond of. We won’t hurt you, Alex.”

 

He kisses her hand. Not for the first time, he’s realizing his life is taking a turn for the better.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He spends the night in John’s bed, puts off his homework in favor for Netflix and falls asleep sometime after one in the morning. It’s a fitful sleep, distracted by thoughts that keep circling back to John even in his sleep. Alex has never been able to sleep soundly; it’s aggravated now in John’s absence, even despite how infinitely better he feels spending time in John’s bed.

 

His phone wakes him up around three, ringing incessantly, but it’s fallen somewhere and he’s too dazed to properly find it so he ignores it. It’s probably just Hercules, who will FaceTime Alex at odd hours when neither of them can sleep so they can play video games. It buzzes twice with a text notification, and Alex’s last thought before he drifts back into unconsciousness is that something might be wrong.

 

Around four am, he wakes again to what sounds like his front door being opened. He remembers briefly that Herc has a spare key, and as he tries to drag himself into wakefulness he has a fleeting thought that something must be wrong if Herc came to get him. He’s forcing himself to shift so he can sit up when the bedroom door opens.

 

“Alex?”

 

All Alex can think is, _fuck, how am I going to explain this to Hercules?_ as he rolls over, forces himself to sit up.

 

“Wh—” he mumbles, reaching up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “S’going on?”

 

He’s still trying to wake up fully when he gets a response, and it’s like a bucket of ice water is dumped on him when he realizes it. “Alex, why are you in my bed?”

 

Alex’s eyes widen immediately, he lurches forward out of instinct and his hands are already reaching for the door. “John?” he’s gasping. He practically falls out of the bed in his haste but then John is _right there_ and Alex’s fingers are grabbing his hoodie and then John is laughing and pulling him into a crushing hug. “ _John_.”

 

“I missed you, too?” John teases, laughing, but Alex just clutches him tighter. John loses his footing a bit and has to adjust to keep holding Alex up. “Alright, alright. God, you act like you thought I’d died or something. Are you okay?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Alex breathes. He’s aware that he’s practically sobbing at this point, clinging to John and crying into his shoulder. “Holy _fuck_. Oh my god. I just _missed_ you.”

 

John squeezes where he’s holding onto Alex’s hip, reassuring. “Trust me, I’d have rather been here,” he murmurs. He tries to pull away but instinctively Alex holds on, and it throws them both off balance enough that they fall, tangled, onto the foot of John’s bed. Alex finally lets go, lets John sit up as he laughs and pulls Alex up with him. They sit cross-legged, facing each other, grinning ridiculously and soaking up each other’s presence.

 

“Why are you home? Why didn’t you say anything? What happened? Is everything okay? How’s your mom?” Alex asks, a thousand miles a minute. He feels like he could _soar_ right now. John just stares at him with wide eyes.

 

“Jesus,” John mutters. “Okay. My mom is good, she went home. Dad and Martha are taking care of her. Health-wise, she’s doing much better. Bedrest for a month or so. I got in a huge fight with my dad after she came home, another argument about how I’m throwing away my life to be a glorified babysitter with a guilt complex. He says I’m affecting _his_ image, as if his lack of care at his wife’s hospitalization isn’t the one thing dragging him through the media right now. Anyway, he told me he thought I was wasting his money so I told him I hadn’t cashed any of his tuition checks because I knew he was going to say I owed him something. And he threw me out. So I’m home. And I tried calling, but it was late, so. Surprisingly you were probably asleep.”

 

“You _told_ me to sleep more,” Alex reminds him. He’s _giddy_ that John’s _here_ , despite all the shit and regardless of everything else. John’s home now; his hellish past is behind him now.

 

“I didn’t _mean_ in my bed,” John retorts, shoving Alex’s shoulder. Alex is too fucking happy to even be embarrassed.

 

“You have more pillows and blankets and I fucking _missed you_ ,” Alex practically shouts. He says it so fast it’s almost one word, but John’s eyes light up and John is _sitting across from him_ and moments ago he’d been hugging John. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

 

“I’m glad to be home,” John breathes. Alex puts a hand on John’s knee and squeezes, and they both grin. “But I’m not gonna lie—I’m so fucking tired. So like… It’s time for bed.”

 

Alex tries not to let his face fall, tries not to be disappointed but he understands and so he starts to clamber out of John’s bed. He freezes when John’s hand darts out and grabs his wrist. “Stay,” John murmurs, tiredly, and that’s all the persuasion he needs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: laf**

[5:32] john is home

 

**From: laf**

[7:32] thank god

[7:49] breakfast w herc @ 9

 

 

* * *

 

 

The week goes on, and their gang adapts to John being back so suddenly. The void that had been occupying their group ever since he’d left goes away with his return. Whatever negative vibes had been hanging off of the shoulders off all his friends melts away the second he drapes himself across Lafayette and Hercules in his annoyingly typical John Laurens-esque way when they meet for brunch. Alex follows him around all day, skips his classes and sends out a silent thanks to whomever told him to take a day off from his student teaching. John goes from professor to professor gathering all his makeup work, and Alex calls Eliza to come over and help him with his work load.

 

“You’re both social work majors, she’ll help,” is the logic he uses when they all meet up. In reality he just doesn’t want to leave John’s side, and he’s using Eliza’s presence to have a reason to stay. John rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what Alex is doing, and Eliza gives him a look that tells him she _does_ know exactly what he’s doing, but Alex just smiles and enjoys John being back.

 

Things get more difficult after that.

 

There’s a week left before finals when Alex realizes he has to stay caught up on his own work. He forces himself to separate from John and throws himself back into studying, into preparation with the students he teaches and into doing makeup work wherever he can. He studies with John as much as possible, goes out with Laf when he can, and texts Hercules uplifting pictures every day when he has a second to spare.

 

He’s practically exhausted midway through the week, overwhelmed by all the things he has left to do as finals begin and the semester ends. He spends more time doing homework in his bed than sleeping in it, and he lives on coffee almost exclusively. When he wakes up from the three hours he’d allotted himself to sleep on Wednesday morning, there’s a text on his phone telling him that John and Laf and Hercules are at the cafeteria stuffing their faces with free pancakes before classes start.

 

Alex gets ready sluggishly, eventually makes his way out the door after he snatches an energy drink from the fridge and puts it in his backpack. He hops a cab to the campus, and soon is walking through the cafeteria when the scent of coffee hits him. It smells _so good_ and warm, and Alex wants it because he’s exhausted and needs to wake up. As he’s pouring himself a mug, he thinks about how he’s pretty sure he’s never been this tired and worn out in his entire _life._ At this point his entire bloodstream could become caffeine and he still wouldn’t have enough energy to get through the day. He’s going to need several cups of coffee today alone.

 

Alex looks at the time on his watch and swears loudly. He doesn’t have much more time before he’s supposed to be submitted a letter of recommendation for one of his students. He spots his friends appropriating a booth not far from the coffee station, and as he’s walking over there Alex gets an idea.

 

He collapses loudly into the seat next to John, coffee swishing dangerously in his cup. Everyone turns to look at him, all quiet as he doesn’t say a single word. Without much prompting, Alex reaches into his backpack to pull out the Monster, and he pours the thing in its entirety into his coffee mug.

 

“I am going to die,” he announces, melodramatic as always.

 

John tenses next to him.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” John says quietly.

 

“It’s just,” Alex sighs, “that I have fire more papers to write, two finals to study for, ten more hours to log in for student teaching, and a recommendation letter to write. I am going to _die._ ” In hindsight, Alex knows he’d only have four papers to write if he hadn’t absolutely fucked his most recent one to shit. The rewrite of that paper is going to be an absolute pain in the ass to do.

 

“Then perhaps you should not be sitting with your friends ingesting a caffeine heart attack,” Lafayette retorts. Alex narrows his eyes at his friend, who is sitting a _bit too close_ to Hercules if _Alex_ has anything to say about it. Never mind the fact that Lafayette is the one who invited him to join them in the first place. “Or perhaps you should stop taking on so much work, Alexander.”

 

Hercules snorts, loud and amused, and he shoots Laf an incredulous look. “If you really think that’s something Alex could do, you don’t know him that well.”

 

Alex hates his friends; they’re _mean_. John’s not even _defending_ him, he’s just sitting there silently by Alex’s side. Alex scowls, stares down at his coffee conconction, and takes a long drink of it. It tastes kind of horrible, but he ignores it. “I’ve got plenty of time to get this all done,” he lies. “I’ve got nothing but time. Time is on my side.”

 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Lafayette shoots back. Alex doesn’t have an answer for that—the last time he truly slept was the night John came home from North Carolina, the night he shared a bed with John again and spent the entirety of it clinging to John’s arm to reassure himself that John was truly home. He’s not sure Lafayette knows this, because Laf gives him a smug smile. “That is what I thought.”

 

“Sleep is for the week,” Alex retorts, trying to defend himself. He crowds himself up next to John, presses snugly into his side and whines, “John, defend my honor, our friends are being mean to me.”

 

Alex is sure John can feel how hard his heart is pounding the second he presses up against him. “Um,” John responds, sounding otherwise uninterested.

 

Lafayette raises an eyebrow at Alex and glances at John, and Alex pointedly ignores both the stare and the comment. He drinks more of his coffee and gags a little bit—this wasn’t his best idea.

 

“I don’t need sleep, I have copious amounts of coffee,” Alex mutters, mostly to himself.

 

Hercules rolls his eyes. “That isn’t coffee, Alex, that’s ten kicks of energy in one cup,” Hercules shoots back. Alex huffs childishly and stares down at his cup. It’s _gross_ and it wasn’t his best idea but it’s accomplishing the task he wanted it to accomplish.

 

“You alright, buddy?”

 

For a moment, Alex thinks Hercules is talking to him, but when he looks up Herc is staring at John. Alex glances at John quickly, alarmed.

 

“Um,” he says, looking at all of them. “Yes?”

 

Alex can’t help himself—he puts a hand on John’s thigh and squeezes, worry spilling out of him at every pore. “What’s going on?” Alex demands. John _just_ got home, they’ve been so happy being all reunited, something could be wrong with his mom. A thousand possibilities swirl through Alex’s head in the span of two seconds.

 

John shakes his head, takes Alex’s hand off his thigh, and says, “I’m good. Spectacular. Just thinking about this, uh, argument on Twitter I’m totally going to win later.”

 

Something tells Alex that John is lying, but he knows when to drop a subject. He grins wickedly at John and throws an arm around John’s shoulders. “I’ve trained you well, young padawan. So, what’s the good ol’ fight today?”

 

He can feel John swallow, can feel Lafayette’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head, can feel tension radiating off of Hercules. “Um, just some asshat trying to pull the ‘all lives matter’ bullshit,” John’s saying. He rolls his eyes. “Dumb straight white boy, you know the type.”

 

Alex can’t help the grimace that spreads across his face. “Privileged asshole bastards,” he mutters. He takes another long look at his coffee. He _really_ has to go, has letters to write and essays to submit. He doesn’t want to leave—his arm is still wrapped around John and he _misses_ time like this spent with his friends. He scowls, then in two gulps finishes off the rest of his coffee and energy drink. “Alright gentlemen, and gentleperson, I’m afraid this is where I must bid you adieu. I have so much work to do, after all, blah blah blah.”

 

His friends mutter out their goodbyes as Alex forces himself out of the booth, as he grabs his backpack and mug and tromps away bitterly. It’s not until he’s too far gone that he realizes John didn’t say goodbye.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He spends the next few hours mulling over John’s strange behavior over breakfast, thinking about why John might have been acting so weird. Quiet, distant—tense every time Alex tried to touch him. They’ve been busy since he’s gotten home. Alex has a fleeting panic that maybe John is pulling away from him, overwhelmed at their bed-sharing and hand-holding and other non-platonic best friend behaviors.

 

He finishes his recommendation letter in record time and has it put in the mail sooner than he anticipated. He goes to a study room to work on two of his essays and manages to get the bulk of the work done for both of them despite his constant circling back to John’s behavior. He’s worried—his plan was to make John _love_ him, not cause John to pull away altogether. Maybe they were apart for too long and John doesn’t know how to go back to the way they were. Maybe John hooked up with someone down in South Carolina and doesn’t know how to tell Alex. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 

He drives himself insane with the amounts of what-ifs and buts. Eventually he gives up on trying to work, knowing he’s too far down the rabbit hole to actually accomplish much at this point. He packs up all of his stuff, puts his headphones in and begins his walk back home. He’s _exhausted_. It’s only the afternoon but he’s so tired he barely knows how to function. He’s glad the week is almost over, glad finals are approaching and more than ever glad they’ve got Winter Break to look forward to. All he wants to do is sleep for the next five days straight.

 

When he gets home, John isn’t in the kitchen or the living room and all Alex wants to do is _see_ him so he marches his way into John’s room. John’s half-asleep on his bed, but he doesn’t comment as Alex collapses dramatically onto his bed and curls up in the space next to him.

 

“Hello?” John says, sounding tired but surprised. Alex curls up closer to him.

 

“I’m so tired!” he whines, worming his way closer to John.

 

“You’re a drama queen,” John corrects. Alex’s face is right next to John’s shoulder, and out of instinct of habit he nuzzles closer.

 

“You’re right, but I’m also so tired,” Alex mutters.

 

John snorts. “Maybe if you weren’t fucking crazy and trying to do eight years worth of school in ten _seconds_ , you wouldn’t be so tired.” Without any warning, John hastily turns on his side away from John. Alex huffs and immediately spoons up behind him, ignoring John’s squawking in surprise.

 

“ _John_ , I’m tired and cold, comfort me!” Alex whines, needy and annoying. John shoves at him.

 

“No,” he grits out, and he retaliates Alex’s shove back with another push. They grapple with each other for a while, Alex kicking his feet at John’s legs and John trying to hold his arms still, until Alex finally gets in a good shove at John’s chest and their impromptu wrestling match ends with them both half tangled in the sheets lying side by side.

 

Alex pants for a minute, then suddenly is overwhelmed by how tired he is again. He’s still confused about John’s behavior, still feels like he’s overstepping the bounds one way or another, but he’s more relaxed laying in bed next to John now than he has been in almost a week, and he nearly falls asleep right then and there.

 

He manages to say, “Remember when I told Laf and Hercules earlier that sleep is for the weak? Turns out, I’m the weak. And I’m tired as fuck and this is me _admitting_ I need a nap.Oh, also I’m sleeping here now.”

 

He ignores John’s groan, doesn’t see John roll his eyes. “This is my bed!”

 

Alex turns in the sheets, still sort of tangling but managing regardless. He blinks twice tiredly at John and repeats, “I’m sleeping here now,” before he closes his eyes and sleep takes him over.

 

He doesn’t hear John get out of bed, can’t tell when he leaves or comes back or leaves again. All he can do is sleep peacefully for the first time since John got back, doesn’t even have the energy to worry about whether or not his actions have been bringing John closer or pushing him away. All he can do is be glad that he’s here, that John’s home, that they have whatever they have.

 

Everything else can wait until he wakes up.


	9. try not to cry when he doesn't feel the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's the same but nothing is. Alex wants it to change; but John doesn't seem to be on the same page.

_try not to cry when he doesn’t feel the same_

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Alex thinks he got too used to John being gone that it’s an adjustment having him back.

 

It’s their last week, chock full of finals, and there are often days that Alex goes a few hours without talking to John and he slips back into the mindset that it’s because John isn’t _here._ So when he goes home and finds John sitting on their couch, his heart stutters and skips and it’s like John’s come back time and time again. Something tells him that this reaction has less to do with the fact he’d adapted in John’s absence and more to do with the fact that he’s just stupidly in love with him.

 

On a rare moment in between finals and jobs, he sits with his three best friends in Lafayette’s studio and they sip on beers and push away their studies for a moment in favor of gathering as friends for the first time in what seems to be a long time.

 

“ _Fuck_ , it’s almost Christmas,” John shouts, midway through his third beer.

 

“What’s everyone’s plans?” Alex muses. Of course, he already knows—Lafayette is spending the break with Hercules and his family, John is staying in New York, and Alex will do the same. He merely wants the opportunity to tease Lafayette mercilessly about their romantic comedy-esque vacation coming up.

 

Lafayette narrows their eyes at Alex like they know exactly what he’s trying to do.

 

“Headed back to Jersey to see the folks,” says Herc, impervious to the showdown going on next to him. “Laf is gonna come with me—they decided France was mediocre next to the present option of the Jersey skyline and my big ass family.”

 

“I decided France was mediocre when I realized my family is here in the States,” Lafayette shoots back, and Alex clinks his beer against Lafayette’s in solidarity.

 

“Here, here,” he mutters.

 

“I’ll be here, same old,” John sighs, taking a long sip of his beer. “Which is unsurprising. My mom tried to invite me down, but. I know Dad doesn’t want me there, and I don’t want to get in an argument with him about school _again_.”

 

Alex bites his lip. “Staying here, as always,” he agrees quietly. He’s got nothing to go back to, anyway.

 

John seems to notice his change in attitude; he reaches across the space between them and squeezes Alex’s knee. “Don’t worry, Alex, we’ll have a fucking party here and remind ourselves that family doesn’t matter anyway.”

 

Alex beams at him.

 

“The Schuyler sisters did invite us to go upstate with them,” Alex hedges. “Their parents really want to meet you, since you missed out on Thanksgiving. Apparently Eliza can’t shut up about you. I guess you guys really get along?”

 

John smiles. “We have similar business goals,” he says with a shake of his head. “Anyway. I don’t want to impose. Maybe we should just keep it as an option?”

 

“Oh, my god, you need to see the collection I managed to snag them for their Christmas presents!” Hercules shouts suddenly. He whips out his phone. “Remember when I went to Milan? This designer I met over there reached out to me and told me they were trying to expand their line to the States and they offered to let me handle a collection if I put it in the hands of the right people. I took one look at the dresses and knew instantly it was Schuyler-chic.”

 

“ _Oh my god we need to get them presents_!” Alex yells. He looks at John in alarm. “I have _zero_ money; I spent everything I had saved on rent for next month and presents for you guys. _Fuck._ ”

 

Lafayette bites their lip when Alex turns to give them a startled look. “I’m afraid I can’t help you,” they admit sheepishly. “I painted them a landscape to hang in the living room of their new apartment.”

 

“Did everyone remember to get them a gift except for me?” Alex groans.

 

“In my defense, I was out of town,” John says, throwing his hands in the air. Hercules laughs at the both of them.

 

“Relax; I’ll help you guys make them some scarves or beanies or something,” he promises. “I know they were looking to get some anyway. And something tells me those sisters would love anything handmade just as much as they’d love anything costing thousands of dollars.”

 

“You don’t have to brag because your gift is expensive and cool,” Alex snaps, but he climbs out of his chair and drapes himself across Hercules’ lap regardless. “But I love you for offering to help us and _thank you so much_.”

 

Hercules laughs and shoves Alex off of him, pushing him until he rolls onto Lafayette dramatically. “Get off!” they yell, swatting him, and soon all four of them are laughing and forgetting about Christmas and finals and any other worry they might have.

 

Alex makes his way back over to John and collapses dramatically onto his lap after Lafayette had unceremoniously pushed him away. John tenses, and for a second Alex panics and thinks he’s gone too far. Everyone is still laughing, Lafayette and Hercules tearing up pieces of paper to throw at Alex and John, and John is still tense—Alex tries not to pay attention to the forced smile spread across John’s face.

 

He thinks _, I’m not going to worry about this right now_ , and he tries to focus on being in the moment, the rare moment he gets to share with the most important people in his life.

 

For the most part, he succeeds.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Monday is the one day that Alex doesn’t have a single final. John has two, and he leaves early in the morning before Alex is awake. He’s been spending two or three nights a week in John’s room, sleeping next to him. He claims its because they both pass out after staying up too late to study, but Alex knows deep down that there’s nothing about his intentions that have anything to do with studying. When he finally does wake up Monday, the side of the bed John had slept on has gone cold, and he’s groggy in his confusion until he remembers.

 

For a moment he lies there, thinks about how far he’s come in the semester, and thinks about how he’s basically thrown his plan to the wind in his missing John and his occupation with work and school. Alex blinks twice at the ceiling, rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, and thinks, _where am I even supposed to go from here_?

 

He thought that sleeping in John’s bed would send a clear message—evidently, their friendship was so far past platonic before Alex even realized it that sharing a bed isn’t even out of the ordinary for them. He thinks, _I can still try something else_.

 

Alex is going to have to step up his game. Everything that’s happened since Alex realized he loved John fit slotted perfectly in to the grey area of normal behavior for them. Alex has always been a flirty person—John’s the same, its why they got along so well in the beginning. Something tells him his usual flirty behavior isn’t going to be enough this time. He’s got to step up his game, make a distinction between flirty for fun or for a purpose, has to make it clear to John that Alex isn’t doing this as a joke or a one time thing.

 

He can do that. He can do flirty with a specific end goal in mind. Hell, it’s not as if he ever struggled to pursue anyone else. All Alex wants now is a way to reassure John that any relationship they start isn’t going to fuck up the dynamics between them now. What took Alex a while to figure out is now the forefront thought on his mind. Their dynamic is already eons past any level of platonic. The only thing that would change _now_ is that any time Alex is struck with desire to kiss John, he’d be able to.

 

_God_ , he wants that. He wants it so bad it’s consuming him. He’s wanted to kiss a lot of different people, ranging from celebrities to a beautiful person on the bus to his first grade school crush to the damn musician on the subway. But wanted to kiss John—it’s different. Some days Alex wakes up and it’s all he can think about. He thinks about it when he doses off during class, thinks about it while John is ranting loudly and beautifully, thinks about it when he’s trying to study. He thinks about it every fucking time John bites his lip; it drives Alex _insane_ , and he wants to master the technique even just to give John a taste of his own fucking medicine.

 

Alex _really_ needs to step up his game, and _fast_. One of these days he’s just going to kiss John and he’s not going to be able to stop it.

 

Alex takes a look at the time and realizes John’s final is getting out soon, realizes John will be home soon, and decides there’s no better time than the present to flirt with John until John finally gets the hint. He starts by collapsing into John’s bed yet again—he’s found that the bed-sharing trope works particularly well in situations like this.

 

He plays Tetris on his phone for a bit and fucks around on Twitter, and then he’s dosing off and not aware of it until he hears John burst into his room and groan loudly. “Oh my god, why is it only the first day of finals, I just want to _die_ already, thank god that we only have one semester left, I don’t even have the energy to be mad at you for _sleeping in my bed_.”

 

Alex groans in response, groggy from being awoken from his unexpected nap. John unceremoniously drops his messenger bag on the ground, toeing out of his shoes. He turns to glare at Alex when he stops suddenly.

 

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

 

Alex startles, takes a look at himself and realizes he had climbed into John’s bed literally only wearing sweatpants. _Well_ , Alex thinks _, now’s as good a time as any to step up my game_. So he stretches himself out, leans demurely across the bed and winks at John. “Why? Think you could get used to it?”

 

John sucks in a sharp breath. Alex waits with his own breath baited; this is his first step, whatever reaction he gets from John now is going to determine how the rest of this plays out. He realizes with a jolt that John is _blushing_ , from the tips of his ears down to his neck. He rolls his eyes regardless and starts to shrug out of his sweatshirt.

 

Any game Alex thought he had gets thrown out the window when he realizes John is climbing into bed next to him, _also shirtless_. John is _beautiful_ —dark skin, lean muscles, freckles as far as the eye can see. Alex is struggling to _breathe_ ; John curls up against his pillow and sleepily murmurs, “You’re a weirdo.”

 

It’s not long after that, he falls asleep.

 

Alex is pretty sure he’s having a stroke if the painful thrumming in his chest is anything to go by. John takes his breath away, constantly, daily. This is a whole new level Alex wasn’t ready for. There’s something awfully domestic, climbing into bed together after a long day, no inhibitions, nothing to gain. John is softer in sleep. He spends so much of his time fighting and acting tough and trying to make a change—rarely do they get to see this side of John, the gentlest parts of John that make him so worth knowing. They don’t see the John who makes comfort food without any prompting from Alex, who holds children delicately and who cries when he hears about animals going extinct. He’s gentle and caring and good, and he’s loud and brash and impulsive. Alex loves every side of him, every curve and edge and scar and valley. Alex is drowning in it, and John is safe on shore, sound asleep.

 

Alex wants to spend every second of every day coming to this conclusion. He could realize it day after day after day—it’s a mantra, a religion, _I love him I love him I love him_. Is this what it’s like to be completely consumed? Is this what a star feels like as it burns, bright and illuminated and beautiful?

 

John Laurens, light of his life.

 

Yeah, he could get used to that.

 

He’s not tired anymore; he feels like he could run for days and never tire. So he climbs out of John’s bed and quietly shuffles out, grabs one of John’s stolen hoodies and makes his way to the kitchen. He wants to _make_ something for John, something inside him dying to prove he’d be a good companion even though the logical part of his brain reminds him he’s already convinced John to live with him. He finds an old cookbook of John’s, given to him by his mother, and so Alex cooks.

 

John’s the brightest thing in his life; it’s the least he can do to give John something in return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

On Thursday Alex takes his last final, and the first thing he does is text his friends to celebrate.

 

Hercules is the only one not interning or in a final, so they make a plan to meet up at some podunk bar that Hercules and John discovered not too long ago and raise a glass to celebrate the end of the semester. Herc is already there, occupying a booth in the bag and munching french fries. Alex waves when Herc notices him.

 

“Congrats on taking a fucking test,” Hercules says, pushing the basket of fries towards Alex after he collapses in the booth. “You’re practically done, mate. After that, they’re unleashing you on the goddamn world?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Alex sighs. “God, that’s a terrifying thought. We’re going to be actual fucking adults. What the hell?”

 

Hercules laughs. “Don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he murmurs. “Y’all are gonna leave me behind, you know? Or what if we get offers across the globe and have to separate? Our jobs are so drastically different. There’s a chance we could end up in all corners of the globe and never fucking talk again.”

 

Alex’s heart clenches. “That’s not going to happen,” he vows. “We’re family. That means something. Herc, I know you have a big-ass family, but I don’t. You guys are all I have. If you try to leave me, you’re going to have to claw yourself out of my cold dead hands before I let you go.”

 

Hercules laughs, loud and booming. It’s Alex’s favorite quality about Herc—his laugh could make anyone else laugh, no matter what the prior circumstances. “You’re a weirdo,” Hercules says fondly. Alex’s heart pangs. “But I get your point. You’re my family, too. I may have a big-ass family, but you guys have been there more for me than they have.”

 

“Why are you going back to them over Christmas?” Alex wonders. _Why not just stay here?_

 

Hercules shrugs, picks at a fry. He’s ducking his head, and Alex realizes with delight that he’s actually started to _blush_. “Lafayette had nowhere to go,” Hercules murmurs.

 

Alex’s heart stops beating. “ _Oh my god you’re in love with them_!”

 

Hercules gapes at Alex, and Alex smugly thinks, _Thank god for Eliza Schuyler and her all-knowing ways rubbing off on me._ “Okay,” Hercules relents. “Yeah. I’m not very discreet, I know. But it’s hard to be in love with someone so beautiful and cultured and talented when you’re a nobody from Jersey.”

 

“Hercules Mulligan,” Alex whispers. “Don’t you ever say that again. My god, Herc, you’re the most incredible person I have ever met. You make _art_ , man. The clothes you design are beautiful and elegant and boundary breaking. Do you understand how many people are going to be looking up to you? It’s transformative, you calling your lines ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’ or just ‘neutral’. Do you know how many people are going to admire that? You’re breaking the stereotypes on what it means to design clothes, on what it means to have lines, on clothes being gender-based. Outside of that, you’re the most _good_ person I’ve ever met. How many charities have you given every penny you can to? How often do you offer your home er food or clothes to anyone who may need it? How often have you sacrificed something beneficial for you in favor of aiding someone who may need it more? Hercules, oh my god, I don’t even have the words to accurately describe to you how I spent months thinking I’d never be worthy enough to be your friend. You aren’t a nobody; you’re beautiful and cultured and talented, too.”

 

Alex wants to reassure Hercules, wants to tell him that his feelings are requited, but he knows it’s not his place. God, he hopes they figure it out, he hopes they get their shit together and live happily ever after. These two idiots deserve each other—both oblivious and thinking they’d never deserve it.

 

Hercules is crying, reaching for Alex’s forearm and squeezing it. “You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for, you know? ‘Not worthy enough’, my ass. You’ve helped me more than you could ever know.”

  
They both kind of laugh, shake off the heavy conversation as the waiter comes and brings their drink orders. “Glad we had the heart to heart right off the bat,” Alex muses. “Now we can drink.”

 

“Here’s to loving someone who doesn’t know it,” Hercules murmurs, mostly to himself, but Alex relates all the same.

 

“For what it’s worth, I think you have a better shot than you’d expect,” Alex says, and he clinks his glass against Hercules. “You guys are going on a vacation together; I’m just saying that’s some trope-y ass shit. Give it a chance. I think you’ll have a pretty good shot.”

 

Hercules shakes his head. “I should have never told you,” he muses. “Now you’re never going to shut up about it. Anyway. What about you, Ham? You got anybody special in your life?”

 

He’s about to answer when his phone starts to ring, cutting him off. Alex reaches into his pocket and digs it out, sighing when he sees the name. “John,” he says, as an answer to both Hercules’ question about his special someone and who is calling. He answers after Hercules nods, and he doesn’t have a chance to speak before John is shouting in his ear.

 

“ _Only one more fucking day of finals_!” he screeches, and Alex cringes. “Oh my god, we’re almost fucking done. Where are you? I want to get shitfaced.”

 

Alex laughs. “With Herc, at that podunk bar you guys find not long ago.”

 

“You’re with Hercules?”

 

“Yeah, you worried I’m cheating on you?” Alex teases. John’s lost the shout in his voice—he sounded surprised at Alex and Hercules spending time together.

 

John doesn’t reply for a minute, and Alex rolls his eyes at Hercules’ raised eyebrow. “Whatever. I’m probably gonna head home, crash early.”

 

John’s quick switch in behavior derails Alex for a second, and he can’t quite formulate a response. “Wait, what? I thought you wanted to go out, didn’t you just say you wanted to get drunk tonight? You can come join us, man.”

 

“Nah,” John says shortly. “I probably shouldn’t, since I still have tests tomorrow. But. Have fun, or whatever.”

 

It stings.

 

John’s pulling away, it cuts through Alex in a way he doesn’t quite know how to articulate. He swallows thickly. “Okay,” he says, and he sounds more timid than he’s ever sounded before. John ends the phone call suddenly, and Hercules is staring at him with concern when he puts his phone down.

 

“Everything okay?” Herc asks.

 

Alex blinks. “Yeah. Do you want to get drunk? I want to get drunk.”

 

Hercules doesn’t ask for an elaboration, doesn’t ask why. It’s another quality Alex loves of Hercules—his innate ability to understand when not to press. He orders another round, shots this time, and Alex throws back two or three or four before he forgets that John was even short-tempered in the first place.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so his plan isn’t working.

 

It’s fine. He supposes he should have expected it, should have seen it coming, as he takes a look back on his track history. John is exuberant and passionate and bursting at the seams with sunshine—Alex fucked up relationships for fun. Yeah, he guesses, he _really_ should have seen it coming. 

 

Maybe he was too forward. John tenses up now, every time Alex comes around. It’s not like Alex hasn’t noticed; his casual touches are often rewarded with stiffened glances, hasty retreats, ignorance. He pretends it doesn’t sting him every time John pulls away.

 

It does.

 

Lafayette seems to be succeeding at any rate. Ever since Hercules came clean to Alex, he’s watched them inch closer and closer together, always getting too close and pulling away. He’s seen the heart eyes Hercules shoots at Lafayette any instance they aren’t looking. He’s seen the way Laf’s fingers linger on Hercules anytime they find an excuse to make contact. He’s happy for both of them, he is.

 

He just wishes it was going the same way in his own life.

 

John’s been coming and going ever since Thursday night, never there long enough for Alex to actually have a conversation with him, moving in and out and around and not staying long. He spends a lot of time with Hercules. Alex tries not to be jealous.

 

He fails.

 

John’s not going to fall in love with him. Alex should have expected this. Now, he’s wasted months overstepping the bounds and he went to far and he’s going to lose his friendship with John as well. God, part of him wishes he’d never figured it out.

 

Then he comes home one day to John passed out on the couch, eyes puffy and red and half tangled in the blanket he brought home from South Carolina, and Alex lets go of his previous thought immediately.

 

He’d rather be in love with John and spend every day of his life coping with that than go another moment thinking that John was only a friend. It’s a sad thought, but he’d do it. He’d do anything John asked of him, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

 

How devastating it is to realize what it means to love someone body and soul, to be willing to give anything to ensure the goodness in their life at the cost of the goodness of your own.

 

He wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

 

So it hasn’t been the best few days. Sunday means Hercules and Laf are packing up a car and preparing for their drive to Jersey, and it means Alex and John going to see them off. Every fiber in Alex’s being is hoping for the best to happen between them over the break. He wants them to come back from the break, happy and in love. He squeezes Lafayette tight when he hugs them goodbye.

 

“Don’t be scared,” Alex whispers. “Trust your gut. You guys have a better shot than you think.”

 

Lafayette tightens their hold. “Thank you, Alexander.”

 

He gives the same advice to Hercules, when he hugs him goodbye, and he hopes its enough to convince the both of them to take a chance and finally claim their happiness.

 

Alex and John wave at the car as it drives away, standing side by side in silence as they watch their friends leave. John breaks the silence after a while, shifting his weight and murmuring, “Wanna go get something to eat?”

 

Alex tries not to flinch. “If you’re ready to hang out with me again,” he responds. There’s not heat behind his words—only an underlying sadness and the evident truth that he _misses_ John. John does cringe at his words.

 

“Alex,” he starts, and Alex shakes his head.

 

“Let’s get something to eat,” Alex says. He’s not ready to be rejected, not ready to watch his heart shatter on the streets of New York. Maybe if they’re sitting, together in the way they’ve done so many times before, Alex can convince John to remain his friend. He’s not ready to lose that, he doesn’t want to. He’s desperately trying not to cry in front of John, trying not to fall apart after spending so much time thinking he was going to get what he wanted. If he cries, it’s over. If he cries, it’s defeat. He’s not ready for it to be over. He won’t cry at home, sleeping in his own bed for the first time in so long. He won’t cry when Eliza calls him over, won’t cry when she holds his hands and tells him it’s going to be okay. He won’t cry now, or later, because he isn’t ready to see the end. That’s all it is, essentially.

 

So he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t make another move, doesn’t shift the balance back to friendship or towards a relationship. He’s frozen in this middle ground he’s created, frozen on the line of his own mistake, and he won’t move until he knows how to salvage whatever he has left.

 

They eat. And Alex doesn’t cry.


	10. salvage your friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex will not stop for anything if it means keeping John in his life.

_—salvage your friendship—_

 

 

 

 

 

Something in the dynamic of their friendship has shifted, and Alex knows they're both pretending  that they can't tell.

 

For the most part, things are almost the same. Alex is loud and obnoxious, John is long-suffering but obnoxious as well, they're both toeing the boundary but never fully crossing it. Alex knows deep down that he overstepped and freaked John out; he'll take days of tiptoeing the line if it means he gets to keep John in his life. They're both tense with each other, both wondering what's too much or too little. It's exhausting.

 

Alex spends more time sleeping now than he probably has his entire life.

 

He can't pinpoint the exact reason of his exhaustion. He's on break from school, he isn't student teaching, he works short shifts at the coffee shop three times a week if that. He's not overworking himself for once. And yet, he's more tired these days than he was during the time he worked two jobs and took night classes.

 

Maybe he just needs a break.

 

They decide to join the Schuyler family upstate. It might be out of pure boredom as their friends are gone, or it might be out of the sheer fact that they're desperate for a buffer, someone to help them navigate their fragile friendship.

 

Eliza tells him that they'll start setting up their rooms, so Alex and John pack a bag or two and catch the next train upstate. When the sisters pick them up at the station and start yelling and hugging the second Alex and John come into sight, he thinks they're both a bit too grateful to have the sisters in their lives.

 

John sits up front with Angelica, and they bicker about some movie they've both recently seen, and Alex gets wedged between Peggy and Eliza in the back. Eliza holds his hand and Peggy falls asleep on his shoulder and Alex thinks, _thank god I opened my heart for them_.

 

Catherine and Philip both give Alex a hug when he comes through the door, and he laughs in shock before returning the embrace. John looks equally surprised when Catherine brings him in for his own hug.

 

"Eliza has told me so much about you," she says. John blushes and Eliza squeezes his arm, and Alex thinks, _this is my family._

 

Then he remembers where he and John are, and the thought dies.

 

Angelica seems to notice when Alex retreats in on himself, and she loops her arm through his and says, "Alexander, while my mother bombards John with questions about his orphanage, come with me so I can show you the lake."

 

She keeps her arm looped through his as they exit, kissing Eliza and Peggy on their cheeks as the two girls both squeeze Alex's hands.

 

"Mother, don't ambush him right as he walks in the door," Eliza says, winking one last time at Alex before going to John's rescue. Angelica leads Alex outside.

 

"How are you?" she asks.

 

In some ways, Alex fears Angelica. She's smart and ferocious and beautiful, young and already so successful. She's elegant like wine; and in the same way that a wine stain can be mistaken for blood, she's vicious when needs be.

 

"Alright," Alex murmurs. She's leading him around the property outside. It's beautiful land, a beautiful house. Alex didn't think such things existed so close. They're walking past a garden when Angelica starts to chuckle.

 

"So scared of what your love might do to you," she muses. "But you're the only person that love seems to be losing to."

 

Alex sighs, and pushes his hair out of his face. "I pushed too hard," he grits out. "I thought I could make John fall in love with me but I was trying to force him to feel something that you can't force. You can't _make_ someone fall in love with you! When I realized I was in love with John, it was after _months_ of being unaware and getting to know him and making mistakes."

 

"Don't lose hope," Angelica chastises. "That's the worst thing you could do, for either of you. Maybe it's just the timing, Alex. Maybe he needs more time."

 

"I'd wait a thousand years if it meant I could spend one day kissing him," Alex admits. "I'd do anything he asked of me."

 

They're reaching the edge of a pond, or a lake, or some other body of water Alex doesn't have the energy to identify. It's icy near the edges, the snow bank encasing it in a pretty enough way. There are worst places to spend Christmas, Alex decides. The Schuyler household is a beautiful place, a picture on a Hallmark card. The perfect place for two people to fall in love.

 

Bitterly, Alex throws a chunk of ice into the lake.

 

"So _sad_ , Alexander," Angelica says. "Don't you ever smile?"

 

She rolls his eyes at the forced smile he gives her. "I'm sorry. I know I should be happier. And I'm glad to be here, I hope you don't think I'm not grateful. I'm so lucky to have your family in my life right now."

 

"Peggy adores you," Angelica laughs. "I'm not so sure why. Probably because you two are very similar. Eliza loves you, she's the one who insisted you were worth letting in."

 

"And what about you?" Alex asks.

 

"I want to believe my sisters won't get hurt if you get too close," Angelica says easily. "I want to trust you. But I also love them more than anything in this life. Peggy lets too many people in and Eliza only sees the good. I know I like you. I know that if you hurt them, it'll be the end of you."

 

Alex smiles despite the threat. "I don't want to hurt them," he promises. "You are family now. I don't hurt family."

 

Angelica peers curiously at him. "Then why in god's name are you continuing to pretend your feelings for John are unrequited?"

 

Alex throws another chunk of ice into the lake and then shoves his hands in his pockets when the cold chill gets too strong. "I'm not pretending," he says sourly.

 

"You are and it's hurting both of you," Angelica calmly replies. Alex whirls around, anger lacing his walk as he storms forward.

 

"I'm not pretending!" he snaps. “It’s—I'm. The feeling _isn't_ mutual. If it was, we wouldn't be here. But whatever feelings I have for him, he doesn't feel the same. He _won't_ feel the same. So we're here, and he's always this close to me but never close enough, and it fucking sucks."

 

Angelica does something then that startled the anger right out of him. She reaches forward and wraps her arms around him, cradles him against her chest and holds on until he finally returns the hug. "Shh, shh," she soothes, stroking his hair. "Don't cry, Alex, you'll be okay."

 

He didn't even know he was crying.

 

Eventually the biting cold freezes Alex's tears and his shivers get too strong for Angelica to ignore. She takes his hands in hers and leads him back towards the house, stopping him at the front door the take his face in her hands.

 

"You're a stupid boy, Alexander Hamilton," she says, smiling at him and pressing her lips to his cheek when he laughs a little bit. "But you're going to be okay. Remember that you're here, with your John, and that things like this have a funny way of working themselves out."

 

He reaches up and squeezes her wrists. "You're too good for this world, Angelica," he tells her, and he hugs her one last time.

 

Peggy greets him enthusiastically once they come through the door, lunging for him and grabbing his hand. "Angelica had you out there for so long, I thought we were going to be two short come Christmas dinner,” she says, sticking her tongue out at her sister. “I’ll show you boys to your rooms. You have been on the train all day, plus Mother is making dinner now that we’ve finally pulled John away from her and I’m sure you’d like a moment to yourselves before _that_ bloodbath.”

 

“You make it sound as if our family is insane,” Angelica says, wrapping her arms around Eliza when she comes round with John. Peggy automatically reaches for John’s hand, and once she’s got ahold of both Alex and John she drags them upstairs.

 

“Don’t act like we’re not,” she singsongs, and Alex and John’s laughter mingles behind her. “I’ll give you a quick tour since John has never been here and the last time Alex came upstairs he was fucking wasted.”

 

When she swears, it takes him aback; another surprised laugh makes its way out of his throat. She’s still dragging Alex and John by their hands, and they share a bemused look.

 

“Okay, let’s see. Dad’s office is down that way—his personal one, the one he uses when other political big-names come over is downstairs. Um, that’s Mom’s study. Angelica’s room, oh, that’s just a closet, nothing exciting in there. Ooh, library is through that hallway; Alex, you’d love that room. Useless, useless, that’s Eliza’s room. _And_ , here’s the rooms we have set up for you guys.” Peggy drops their hands dramatically to gesture at the two doors right next to each other.

 

“Thank you,” John laughs, sounding way too amused. Peggy turns to grin at him widely.

 

“You guys can pick which one you want, there’s a bathroom down the hall that way,” Peggy says. “And you guys have already seen the downstairs. Anyway, Mother says dinner should be ready a little bit after seven, so you boys have time to rest or freshen up or whatever.”

 

She throws her arms around both of them and skips off after that, and both Alex and John laugh as she leaves.

 

“She’s something else,” Alex comments.

 

“She reminds me of _you_ ,” John shoots back. They grin at each other for a while. “Tell me you see the resemblance.”

 

Alex shakes his head. “I’m sure there is one, you’re the second person to say that to me. Anyway, I’m…kind of tired. I think I’m gonna take a quick nap before dinner, try not to be such a deadweight the first night here.”

 

John’s face falls a bit. “No, yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s probably a good idea.”

 

Alex gives John one more timid smile, then turns and opens one of the doors.

 

One step forward, two steps back. Alex _hates_ this dance they’re doing. He shuts the door tightly behind him, and for a moment all he can do is lean against it and gasp for breath. Of course the Schuyler’s would have a home big enough they wouldn’t have to share bedrooms. Alex isn’t bitter.

 

He _isn’t_.

 

It’s probably best they don’t share a room, he thinks, when he finally pulls himself away from the door and stumbles towards the bed. He collapses halfheartedly, starts untying his shoes, and pretends that the tears pooling in his eyes aren’t there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The three days before Christmas are spent doing anything the Schuyler sisters put them up to. Thursday morning, Peggy crawls into bed next to Alex and wakes him up by asking him if she can give him a manicure.

 

“I’ve been up for hours and usually Hercules is the one who I give manicures to,” she says with a shrug. “Plus you seem like you’d be up for it.”

 

By the time they go downstairs for brunch, Alex is sporting a nice lavender color on his nails. John’s already down there, halfway through with letting Angelica french-braid his hair. Alex raises an eyebrow at the image, and John just pointedly stares at Alex’s nails. He has to shrug at that—he supposes they’d both let the Schuyler sisters pamper them if they asked. Eliza puts a stack of pancakes down in front of them, Peggy sends Snapchats to Hercules and Lafayette, and they enjoy their time while the sisters’ parents are gone last minute Christmas shopping.

 

Eventually Angelica looks up from the manuscript she’s been bent over and says, “Let’s go ice skating.”

 

This is Alex’s life for three days. He wakes up to one of the girls jumping on his bed and dragging him down for face-masks or pedicures or some other pampering, they take him downstairs and feed him and John, then they drag the both of them to some activity until they’re all so worn out that they come home and share a drink in each other’s company before retiring to their separate beds. Christmas isn’t much of an ordeal, either.

 

The sisters love the beanies and scarves Hercules helped them knit, and in return they’d given John a new sketchbook and a nicer messenger bag, and Alex gets a briefcase and novels to add to his bookshelf. They start a fire, enjoy a meal that Philip makes while Catherine sits with her daughters and their friends and they marathon Christmas movies. Eventually Alex stands and excuses himself to get a glass of water.

 

Peggy skips in behind him. “I have something to give you,” she says wickedly, grinning and hiding her hands behind her back. Alex rolls his eyes at her. “It’s something that could _help_ you, Alex, don’t be sassy.”

 

“What do you have to help me?” Alex asks, playing along. He takes a drink of his water as Peggy moves her hands to show him what she’s holding.

 

“Mistletoe!” she whisper-yells, and Alex chokes a bit. “What? It’ll help you. If you and John kiss, he’ll realize there’s undeniable chemistry between you guys and then neither of you will be able to ignore it anymore. Boom! Instant happily ever after, curtesy of yours truly. I’ll take reward in form of giving the best man speech at your wedding.”

 

Alex is still choking on the sip of water he’d tried to drink. “Oh my god,” he splutters. “ _Peggy_.”

 

“What?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you telling me it won’t work?”

 

“I’m telling you that John and I are in a rocky enough place right now, I don’t need to add me planting one on him to the list of things I shouldn’t have done. Besides, if John and I ever have our first kiss… I want it to mean something. Not—be a joke, be something out of obligation.”

 

Peggy smiles at that, and deftly throws the mistletoe onto the counter. “You really do love him,” she comments. “That’s good to know.”

 

Alex can’t help but smirk. “Did you doubt it?”

 

“Maybe a bit,” Peggy shrugs. “Now we know. Now we have something to work with. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and all that other sappy shit. Do you know how much could happen over this holiday that you’re just letting go to waste? Why do you think my sisters and I have taken you ice skating? On a hay ride? Christmas tree shopping? Do you think we do that for _fun_? We aren’t a Hallmark card.”

 

Alex laughs, a bit too hard, thinking back to a thought he’d had earlier that week. “You’ve been doing all of this to, what? Persuade John to fall into my arms so I can sweep him off his feet?”

 

“Essentially, yes,” Peggy admits. She bumps her shoulder against Alex’s. “What can I say, I’m a romantic. I want you guys to end up together.”

 

Something inside Alex lifts at her words, some unknown weight eases itself off his heart. He hugs her. “Peggy, you’re a good person, you know?”

 

Peggy kicks at his shins but hugs him back all the same. “I know.”

 

The day after Christmas, when the sisters come bursting into his and John’s room demanding the boys accompany them on a spending spree in the city, Alex doesn’t groan or complain as he’s done before. Instead he winks at Peggy, holds tight to Eliza’s hand, thanks God for the family he’s built in such a short time, and just enjoys the time with them.

 

Conveniently, the sisters disappear for a while, leaving Alex and John to their own devices. They get a pretzel to share at the food court, and as they sit down to eat it, Alex says, “Are you having fun? Are you glad we came?”

 

John picks off a piece of the pretzel. “No, I’m really glad we came,” he says. “It’s better than being bored out of our minds at home. Plus, I’ve never gone ice skating before. So now when people ask me, I can tell them that skating fucking _sucks_.”

 

Alex laughs and aims a kick at John’s legs. “Poor baby,” he coos. “Fell on your ass three times and acting as if the world is out to get you.”

 

“I’m sore!” John insists.

 

“Nothing you’re not used to,” Alex shoots back wickedly, and he cackles when John throws some pretzel at him. “Alright, alright! I digress.”

They lapse back into silence, and Alex thinks how much he’s missed this. The banter, the playfulness, the teasing and the pushing and pulling. Alex thinks, _I’ve got to do everything I can to preserve this. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep John Laurens in my life_.

 

The girls find them soon enough, and drag them from store to store. It’s nice, being able to be with John and be with others. He might have to get used to this—only being able to spend time with John in group settings. It’s not ideal, but Alex is coming around to the fact that his ideal scenario is likely not in the cards for them. At this point he’ll take what he can get, and any version of John will be enough.

 

Alex has known heartbreak in the past. He watched his father walk out on him, his mother held him as she died. He watched his family get broken up, watched foster parent after foster parent stop caring about him. He’s had every person he’s ever let in walk out of his life, up until now. As long as John doesn’t walk away, Alex is going to be okay. John is _staying_. They may never be anything greater than friends, but John isn’t walking away anytime soon, if ever—that’s what matters. Everything else, Alex can work on. Everything else, Alex can move on from.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: laf**

[6:59] alex i hope your christmas holiday has been alright. i know that you were considering joining the schuylers upstate last we talked and i hope you did bc you need to be with family especially now and get out of your wallowing misery. merry christmas. i am glad you are a part of my family, even if you have the tendency to be an asshole

[7:00] sorry that last part was from hercules

[7:01] i mean it is true but it was still from hercules.

[7:02] i just wanted to say thank you. for being on my side and for constantly reminding me of my value and for giving me advice time and time again

[7:03] hold your head up mon ami.

[7:03] the best things happen unexpectedly.

 

**From: HUNKules**

[8:40] merry christmas to my two best friends. love y’all. remember this holiday season that the best things happen unexpectedly

[8:42] don’t fuck up too much shit while we’re gone


	11. move on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it doesn't work out.

_—move on—_

 

 

 

 

They spend another week at the Schuyler estate before John comes into Alex’s room one day holding his phone in his hand. “How do you feel about going back into the city for a New Years party?”

 

Alex perks up, takes his headphones out of his ear and leans forward. “Whose throwing the party?” he asks. He’d all but forgotten about New Years—he’d been occupied by everything else this week, these months, preoccupied by trying to keep his friends in his life as their lives adapt, by school, by John.

 

“Dolly Payne?” John answers. He leans against the door. “We had philosophy with her, way back in like, sophomore year, I think?”

 

“She’s the one that always throws the parties people never shut up about,” Alex realizes. “Yeah, why not? Let’s go. God, it’s been… _ages_ since we’ve been to a party. We kind of became recluses when we formed our little band, didn’t we?”

 

John laughs, distracted as he shoots a text back to Dolly. “We kind of did. I’m gonna go invite the sisters, then we should probably start getting ready. It’ll be a bit of a train ride.”

 

When John leaves, Alex finally lets himself feel excited. The idea of a new year, a fresh start, has always been enthralling to him. Maybe this is his chance to turn his life around, maybe tonight his kiss at midnight will be John, Maybe the new year will actually bring a change Alex wants. He tries not to let his hopes get up too high, reminds himself that often-times new year resolutions don’t work themselves out, tries to remember that it’s likely he won’t get to kiss John. He’s not very good at remembering—he let’s the hope get too high, and by the time they leave the estate he’s positively vibrating with excitement. Eliza seems to pick up on his excitement, and she reaches over to hold his hand on the train ride back into the city.

 

“You seem to be doing a lot better today,” she comments. Alex just grins.

 

“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight,” Alex says honestly. Eliza beams at him.

 

“Is tonight the night, Alexander Hamilton?”

 

Alex shrugs. He spares a glance at John, who sits across from them sandwiched between Peggy and Angelica as they bicker and tease each other.

 

“Are you cheating on me with Eliza, Alex?” John gasps when he catches Alex’s eye. Eliza’s laugh fills the air, and he waves their twined hands in surrender.

 

“Something I could never do,” Alex shoots back. Eliza squeezes his hand. When John turns away, Alex murmurs, “Maybe tonight is the night. Even if it isn’t, I’m going to get drunk, we’re going into a new year and things are changing. I graduate that year. I start teaching my own classes that year. It’s just. It’s going to be a good night.”

 

“ _Good_ ,” Eliza says back.

 

Alex is determined to make it a good night, so as soon as they arrive at Dolly Payne’s place, he reaches for the first cup of alcohol he can find, chugging it all in one go and laughing when his friends start to tease him.

 

“Damn, Party Alex is in full swing tonight,” John comments. Alex winks at him.

 

“It’s a good night,” he says easily.

 

And it is. He plays a drinking game with John and some others at the start, beer pong or something with a similar premise that leaves him too tipsy to remember properly. He dances with each of the Schuyler sisters in turn, he talks to Dolly for the first time in two semesters, he laughs and laughs and laughs when Aaron Burr gets so drunk he falls off a table. It’s a good night.

 

Until it’s not.

 

Alex catches sight of John dancing with some guy that’s not even that cute, and his heart sinks in his chest.

 

John’s drunk, his skin is flushed, and there are stray curls falling out of the bun he’d worked meticulously on before they’d left. The guys hands are on John’s hips, splaying possessively, and Alex is overwhelmed by a sense of white hot anger at the image, so he hastily makes his retreat.

 

He takes a shot of tequila right out of someone else’s hands and downs it.

 

Eliza crashes into him not long after, looking frustrated and out of place. It’s not a look Alex has ever seen on her before. He grabs her arms and steadies her, and she finally looks him in the eye. “She’s here,” Eliza says shortly. “The girl I’m in love with. She’s here, and she won’t talk to me.”

 

“John is grinding up against some ugly ass white dude,” Alex says in turn. Eliza’s brow furrows.

 

“We need shots!”

 

She kisses his cheek sloppily and then retreats, leaving him feeling cold again. Alex stumbles after her, but instead runs into John. He’s panting and his eyes are a little too wide.

 

“How long to midnight!” John shouts in his ear. His hand shoots out and Alex startles when he feels John’s fingers wrap around his wrist. Alex nearly loses his balance. He somehow manages to shrug.

 

“Like twenty minutes, I think?” he yells back. The party is getting louder, voices climbing over the music as people get more and more drunk. John leans in closer to Alex, unable to hear him. He’s still breathing heavy, and his breath is hot in Alex’s ear. It sends a thrill through Alex. “I said, like twenty minutes.”

 

John groans loudly, stumbles until he crashes a little bit into Alex’s shoulder. He starts laughing. “Wow, sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m—a bit drunk.”

 

Eliza returns, holding two shot glasses in her hand, John pulls away, allowing Alex to take the shot. Eliza sidles up to his ear, shouting, “Be my kiss at midnight?”  


Alex nods without much thought. John dances with other boys and Eliza’s girl won’t talk to her, and Alex would rather ring in the new year kissing someone he knows and loves than to kiss a stranger knowing John will be doing the same.

 

John tenses, flinches so hard Alex can feel it from where they’re practically flush together, and he starts mumbling something Alex can’t quite understand before retreating somewhere else in the house. Alex feels cold, despite the tequila shot coursing through his veins. He feels drunk and sober all at the same time, aware of everything and yet wanting to let it all go.

 

He loses track of John for a while, and Alex is caught between staying and dancing with Eliza who looks far too sad or going after him. Eventually he settles on staying, sways and swings Eliza in his arms and tries his damnedest to make her smile. He promised Angelica not too long ago that he’d never hurt Eliza—he doesn’t want to see her hurt by anyone else, either. Eventually the countdown starts, it’s almost the new year, and instinctively Alex’s head turns to try and find John.

 

John’s who he cares about. This whole new year thing, it doesn’t matter as much as seeing John right in that moment. Eliza seems to know, can tell who he’s searching for, always knows—she points and he follows and then, there’s John.

 

The countdown reaches zero.

 

John's leaning in, kissing the same dude who'd been grinding on him earlier, and Alex's gut twists sourly. Eliza slips her hand into his, grabs his attention, and kisses his lips. They're both so drunk that it's nothing more than a peck, it's weird on some level neither of them really can describe, so as they pull away they're both laughing and she's still holding his hand and he says, "Happy New Year."

 

When Alex looks back at John, he's pulling away from the guy and hastily making his retreat. Every part of him is on fire, filled with an indescribable jealousy he knows he has no right to bear. He swallows thickly and lets Angelica hand him another shot. He lets himself get lost in the music for a while.

 

The thing is, Alex can shout until he's blue in the face that he'd do anything John asked of him, be supportive no matter who or what or why. But when it comes down to it, Alex isn't sure he'll be able to. He isn't sure he'll be able to watch John date anyone else, fall in love. He thinks about John asking him to be his best man.

 

He stumbles towards the nearest sink and throws up.

 

Alex can’t tell if it was the alcohol or the idea that made him vomit.

 

After a moment he realizes Peggy has been holding his hair back, stroking her fingers along his scalp and murmuring reassurances. "Are you okay?" she asks him when he finally slumps away from the sink.

 

" _No_ ," Alex whispers. Peggy helps him walk, starts leading him towards a stairwell to sit him down until the room stops spinning. He wants more alcohol.

 

He freezes in his tracks when he catches sight of John sitting next to some girl, who laughs and twirls a curl around her finger and touches his arm. Something inside of him clenches again, and he's sure if he had anything else to throw up, he would.

 

Everyone loves John. Alex has been a fool to think he ever stood a chance.

 

He knows nothing will come of John talking to a girl, he knows he has no right to be jealous and that he has to reason to be. But John makes people fall in love with him mere seconds after meeting them.

 

Alex has been trying for months to get someone to fall in love with him and he's failed miserably.

 

Peggy says something that Alex doesn’t quite catch and then she’s gone. Alex stays behind. He watches as they clink their plastic drinks together and he watches as the girl finishes hers off. John looks impressed, and he says something that makes her laugh and touch his arm again. Then she’s taking his phone out of his hands and punching in something.

 

The pretty girl laughs again as John looks up at her, and when he looks back down at his phone she presses a kiss to his temple. Alex isn't sure John even notices. 

 

She's beautiful. Alex has to give her that. Even if she most definitely will never stand a chance with John. Maybe Alex can form a club with her, too.

 

John's trying to stand but he's far too drunk and Alex is, too, and really he can't stay away any longer. He catches John when he stumbles, helps him sit back down and frowns at him. "Did a girl just give you her number?"

 

It slips out before he can stop it.

 

John's suddenly defensive, pushing at Alex and crossing his arms. “Yes.”

 

Alex forgets how much he loves John drunk, how childish and sweet and good this version of John is. His heart swells with affection, despite it all, despite his anger and frustration and sadness. All other feelings regardless, he's in love with John, and he's incredibly fond of that.

 

"John," Alex sighs. "You're gay."

 

John saga dramatically in his seat. "Fuck it all," he whispers with wonderment.

 

Alex loves him. It startles a laugh out of him, his overwhelming wave of affection. He wonders if John can feel it, it's so strong. John beams at him when Alex starts to laugh at him. "You're drunk," Alex tells him, and John gives him a look that screams, no shit. It makes Alex chuckle again. He's drunk, too. "Let's go home."

 

He's moving to help John stand up when John spits out, "You kissed Eliza," and his heart sinks in his chest. John sounds so sad, inexplicably upset and Alex doesn't have a reason why.

 

"John," Alex tries to say, but John shakes his head rigorously and pushes against Alex as he tries to stand up. He's stumbling, sad and drunk, and Alex just wants to take care of him. 

 

"Let's go home," John repeats. He's clinging to Alex tightly, all Alex can do is help him step forward. "M'tired, I want my bed."

 

_So do I_ , Alex thinks, sourly.

 

"You're gonna have a bitchin' headache tomorrow," Alex mutters, and he helps John walk until they reach a cab, and he holds John's hands on the ride home. John starts to cry anytime Alex tries to pull away, so he stops trying.

 

By the time they get home, John throws up so and nearly passes out when they walk in the door, so Alex leads him to his bed and helps John climb into bed, helps him toe off his shoes and jeans and tucks him into bed. John's dead to the world by the time Alex stumbles back into his room with two large glasses of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. They're both going to need it in the morning.

 

He tries not to think again until morning comes.

 

Alex wakes up to John's sharp intake of breath, and instantly he wishes he'd never drank as much as he did. He's groaning loudly as John starts hissing.

 

"Alex. _Alex_. Did I hook up with a girl last night?"

 

Alex wants to shout. "John, you're _gay_!"

 

"I know!" John hisses, and he flinched so hard Alex can feel it across the bed. John wraps himself tightly in the sheets. "Fuck. I _know_. But all I can remember from last night is her name."

 

"Ugh!" Alex whines. He turns angrily in the bed and frowns when the bright lights hit his eyes. "You didn't hook up. You kissed some ugly dude at midnight, then you were talking to some girl, she gave you her number, I brought you home, you threw up, I passed out on your bed, then I guess you passed out too."

 

Alex tries not to sound too angry about the guy John made out with or the girl that gave him her number. It's hard to do when his head feels like it might actually explode.

 

He also might throw up.

 

"I'm gonna throw up," John says out loud. 

 

Alex doesn't move when John stumbles out of bed towards the bathroom. He's too worried that if he moves, he'll vomit, too. The lights are _murdering_ his senses without the heightened need to vomit.

 

He covers his eyes, tries to remember everything else that happened last night, aside from kissing and drinking and jealously _. Did he kiss John?_ Alex is pretty sure he has a stroke for about ten seconds before he decides, no, he didn't kiss John last night. He remembers he kissed Eliza; he remembers John wasn't happy about it for some godforsaken reason. He remembers drinking. He thinks that's all he did all night.

 

"You asshole," John whispers as he crashes back into his room. "I puke out a lung and you stay in bed?"

 

John looks like he's gonna topple over. He's so _bright_ ; Alex has to look away. He blames his hangover.

 

"It's comfy and warm," Alex mutters. It's muffled by the fact he keeps burrowing himself as much as possible in John's sheets.

 

"It's not my fault you have one pillow and one blanket on your own bed," John whines. He collapses dramatically on the bed and yanks on the blankets until he's pulled a few away from Alex to wrap around himself. They both groan as the tousling makes the nausea worse.

 

"Happy fucking New Year," Alex gripes, and he laughs when John smacks him with one of his pillows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He gets a call from Lafayette on the day they and Hercules are coming home, just a few hours before they’re all supposed to meet up to celebrate their return.

 

“Did you miss me so much you absolutely couldn’t go a few more hours without hearing my voice?” Alex teases as he answers. Lafayette laughs, a little too hard. It doesn’t take long for Alex to figure out that something is up.

 

“Actually, I just wanted to talk before it was all four of us,” Lafayette answers. Alex drops the shirt he’d been folding.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Lafayette chuckles. “Are you? How was your holiday? I heard you ended up going to the Schuyler household despite John’s protests.”

 

Alex narrows his eyes. Lafayette is defecting, and Alex wants to know what conversation they’re trying so hard to put off. “I’m fine. The holiday was okay. Uneventful, unfortunately, in the aspect I know you’re really asking about. But never boring—the sisters are a whirlwind, you know? I’m glad they’re in our lives.”

 

“Me, too,” Lafayette agrees. “So there hasn’t been a change between you and John?”

 

They sound shocked. It makes Alex suspicious. “No,” Alex drawls out. “As you know, the last thing that happened for us was me going way too fucking far and freaking him out. We’re friends, I guess, if that’s what you mean? He didn’t drop me. I was shocked, too. I think right now we’re just—avoiding the conversation. I’m not…ready. To be rejected.”

 

“My god,” Laf groans. “You’re impossible. And so dramatic. Hercules and I are about an hour out, we have stopped to refill the gas and then we’ll be on our way. I’ll talk to you more at dinner _et peut-être t’aider à te sortir la tête du cul_.”

 

Alex rolls his eyes. “I speak French, asshole,” he reminds Lafayette.  


“Shut up. We will see you soon.”

 

Something has changed—Alex can _tell_. Whatever reason Lafayette had for calling him, it wasn’t to yell at him for not making a move on John over the holiday break. Alex realizes with a jolt that he didn’t get the chance to ask Lafayette how things were between them and Hercules. He decides something has to have changed; they _have_ to be dating or _something_. The thought makes him excited all over again for dinner.

 

The moment he sees Lafayette and Hercules, he breaks out into a sprint and crashes into them, automatically wrapping them both in a hug. “I missed you,” he says, overly dramatic but far too serious in his sentiment. They laugh and shove at him but hug him back all the same.

 

It’s freezing outside, so they walk as fast as they can towards the bar. Lafayette tries to shove Alex into John. _Because we’re fifth graders_ , Alex thinks, and he retaliates by leaping onto Lafayette’s back. He’s rewarded with the sweet sound of all of his friends laughing, and he feels better now than he has in a while.

 

He finally hops off of Lafayette’s back as they reach the bar, shoves them through the door and doesn’t realize that John and Hercules aren’t right behind him until they’re already approaching a booth. Lafayette shrugs. “I am sure they aren’t too far behind,” they say drily. There’s a light in Lafayette’s eyes that wasn’t there before the holiday break—Alex is more sure than ever that something happened. He has to know.

 

“What happened?” he demands, but Lafayette shushes him as a they try to flag down a waiter. Alex huffs, but he doesn’t get another chance to demand answers from Laf before John and Hercules are making their way loudly through the bar to their booth.

 

“…two different things,” John’s arguing, and Hercules looks unamused. “Just like your situation and my situation.”

 

Hercules rolls his eyes dramatically, and Alex only looks away for a second before he realizes John is stumbling and practically falling into Alex’s lap. Instinctively, Alex’s hands tighten by his back to steady him, John’s arm wraps around Alex’s shoulders, and then it’s just quiet. Alex just stares at John, who’s blinking back at him in shock.

 

He wonders if John can feel the pounding of his heart.

 

“I think it’s the same thing,” Hercules says loudly. Alex can’t look away from John.

 

Lafayette kisses Hercules, and Herc says, “Hey, baby.”

 

Okay, so Alex _can_ look away and he does, immediately whipping his gaze to his other two friends. He suppose his unanswered question has an answer now.

 

“Whoa!” he shouts, forgetting that John’s still in his lap. John flinches and Ale’x grip automatically tightens. He’s overwhelmed, too much has happened in the last sixty seconds, but he’ll be damned if he lets go of John willingly. “When?! What?! When did this happen?”

 

Lafayette _laughs_ , and there’s that unexplainable brightness again. Hercules smiles at Lafayette like they’re the sun, and it dawns on Alex then that the way Hercules looks at them alone is enough to brighten Lafayette. It’s _beautiful_. “The day before Christmas. Hercules and I finally realized how foolish we have been pretending all this time that we didn’t feel the way we did.”

 

Alex whistles. Damn bastards took his advice, then. He wants to kick at Lafayette’s shins. They’ve kept this a secret for nearly two weeks, the _asshole_. If Alex wasn’t so happy for them, he thinks he might be a little upset.

 

“Lucky it happened to you,” he murmurs, mostly under his breath.

 

John tenses, and Alex thinks, _Fuck_.

 

“What?” John whispers. He maneuvers himself off of Alex’s lap and Alex is filling to the brim with panic, he’s not going to be able to explain this one at all, John is going to have to reject him here in front of their friends. Alex thinks he might throw up. “What did you say?”

 

“Lucky for them,” Alex stammers, hoping to god that his measly excuse is accepted. John _moved_ , John’s practically already said no in the way he’s behaved, and Alex just keeps _fucking it up_. He’s so _angry_ at himself for a minute he forgets that he’s supposed to be _happy_. “I’m happy for you guys. Now I don’t have to listen to Lafayette write sonnets about Hercules’ hands.”

 

He smirks, and Lafayette blushes from head to toe. “That was one time!” they argue. Hercules pats their cheek, looking fond and stupid and in love. “Once.”

 

John snorts. “You, too? I thought I was going to go insane if I had to listen to Herc tell me one more time about how good Laf’s legs look in high heels.”

 

“Oh my god,” Hercules groans. Now _he’s_ blushing, too, and Alex and John are enjoying this far too much. Hercules buries his face into into Laf’s shoulder and flips off John. “Fuck you, John Laurens.”

 

“You would,” John teases.

 

Alex’s heart skips a beat and he thinks, _you would not_.

 

“You would not,” Lafayette echoes. John winks at Lafayette, and Alex is mostly just grateful that Lafayette voiced the sentiment he doesn’t get to say. Lafayette turns to grin wickedly at Alex, though, and Alex realizes what they’re about to say. “Though I can think of some who might.”

 

Alex coughs pointedly and hastily catches the attention of a waiter. “Hi, sorry, we’re ready to order our drinks,” he blurts out, and Lafayette laughs at him. They all laugh when Hercules finally pulls away from Lafayette’s shoulder just for long enough to order some alcohol.

 

They talk for a long time, finally getting the tale of how Lafayette and Hercules managed to get their shit together over the holiday, and they talk about the shenanigans they got in on their respective vacations. It’s nice, the group setting. Alex hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

 

He drinks a bit too much a bit too fast and throws inhibition to the wind. He knows he’s starting to get too flirty with John again the moment he tries to drape his arm over John’s shoulders and is greeted with a sharp flinch. But then John leans into him a little bit more and Alex thinks, _maybe he’s a bit too drunk, too_ , so he doesn’t move.

 

 

* * *

 

 

John keeps ditching him to hang out with some girl named Maria, and it doesn’t take long for Alex to figure out that it’s the girl from the party on New Years. When he asks John about it, John just gives him a long-suffering look and says, “Well, we’re both really fucking gay, so whatever you’re implying.”

 

“She was flirting with you at the party,” Alex singsongs. He’s trying not to sound as jealous as he feels. John rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m a fucking riot when I’m drunk and she was amused,” he retorts. “Just because you think any casual contact is flirting doesn’t mean the rest of us do. Anyway, I’m going to brunch, because classes started this week and I’ve fucking earned it.”

 

John swears a lot more often when he’s flustered, and Alex is so inexplicably charmed by it that he’s almost disgusted.

 

So John ditches him for brunch, and Alex mopes about how adorable John is and how sexy he looks when he swears, and he ends up passing out in John’s bed while wallowing in his own misery. John doesn’t say anything, just climbs in next to him and reaches for his laptop to start working on something.

  
So Alex settles.

 

He spends far too much time sleeping in John’s bed while John leaves him, and John’s a saint about it for the most part. Until one day he comes home and chucks a pillow at Alex’s head, affectively waking him up from his impromptu nap.

 

“My bed!” he’s yelling. “Since when do you sleep so much?”

 

_Since the subsequent love of my life will never return my affections, and since I’m miserable about it_ , Alex thinks bitterly.

 

“Since it’s the first week of our last semester and I only have two classes this time and they’re easy as hell,” Alex retorts. “Now I finally have time to sleep. Plus the kids I’m teaching this semester are tiring me out.”

 

John crinkles his nose in a _grossly adorable way_ , and says, “Gross, you’re _that_ kind of teacher?”

 

It takes Alex a moment to understand what John’s implying, but once he does, he starts yelling and tries to throw the pillow back at John’s face. It falls flat, and he ignores it. “No!” he gripes. “They just ask a lot of questions. It’s exhausting.”

 

“They sound like someone else I know,” John deadpans. He gives Alex this pointed look, and then collapses dramatically into his desk chair. Alex glares at him.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alex says defensively. He wraps the sheets tighter around himself, burrows himself in the warmth and softness.

 

“This is still my bed,” John says, ever persistent.

 

“It’s still comfier than mine. I can’t apologize for that,” Alex argues. _Please don’t kick me out, I can’t sleep anywhere else. I don’t sleep_ , he thinks. John sighs and stands up after another moment, moving towards the door.

 

“I ought to buy you pillows and blankets for your own bed so you’ll leave mine,” he murmurs on his way out the door.

 

_Don’t, though_ , Alex pleads selfishly.

 

John comes back with his laptop in his hands and not long after that, the doorbell rings with Chinese delivery. They sit and eat and watch shitty old movies on John’s laptop, and they gossip like old women about Lafayette and Hercules. Alex makes John laugh until their stomachs hurt when he adds ‘in bed’ to the end of their fortunes, and he lets John have his cookie. John lights up in his regular, beautiful way and Alex realizes he’d give John the world if he could.

 

It’s a nice moment. Quiet, rare for them.

 

His phone buzzes, and for a moment the illusion shifts.

 

**From: Wife**

[7:28] I think I’ve finally got a shot with my girl<3

 

Alex can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at that. He’s in the middle of typing out a response when John says, “Go hang out with her.”

 

Alex looks up in surprise.

 

“Go. I know you want to.”

 

Alex is confused, doesn't understand why John's so suddenly persistent, so tight-lipped, tense. He opens his mouth to ask John what he means, why John wants him to leave to spend time with Eliza, but John's face contorts into a frown and he shakes his head and snaps, "Alexander. _Go_! I'm fine with leftover Chinese and Netflix."

 

It's like a slap in the face. John doesn't want him here. This is the rejection, Alex overstepped _again_ , he pushed too hard and now John's throwing him out. He suddenly feels like he's going to be sick so he silently gets off the bed and makes a run for the front door. He races through the apartment building until he's finally outside, the cold wind biting at his cheeks, and he throws up in the first trash can he can find. God, what the _fuck_ is his deal? He's so mad at himself for continually pushing the boundaries even when he _knew_ John wanted it to stop. Why can't he _catch a hint_? Why does he love _fucking up relationships_ so much? John has to hate him now, has to think Alex is a fucking monster for continuing to push his buttons.

 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. His hands are shaking so hard and his eyes are filled with tears and he can barely see straight long enough to dial Eliza's number. When he doesn’t get her answer, he hails the first taxi he can and somehow manages to spit out her address. His entire world is spinning, he’s sick and he’s tired and he’s so damn _mad at himself_. He can’t go home until he’s sure John will be asleep, and once he gets there he supposes he’ll start packing his things in case John asks him to leave.

 

It feels like only a minute before they pull up to Eliza’s apartment complex, and Alex forces himself out of the car. He stumbles and the world spins and then suddenly he’s outside her door, knocking as hard as he can and ignoring how timid it sounds.

 

“Alex? My lord, are you okay?”

 

He didn’t even realize he was falling forward until her hands are on his shoulders. Her eyes are so concerned, she looks worried and it’s been so _long_ since he’s felt like people worry about him and it’s _nice_.

 

“Are you busy?” he croaks out. Eliza looks back into her apartment and frowns sadly at him.

 

“Maria is here,” she says apologetically. “We’re—I think this is a date. There was a bit of miscommunication, actually involving you—that’s not the point. Are you alright?”

 

Alex slumps again, but Eliza is strong and holds him up and makes him look her in the eye. “Just need someplace to be,” he says sadly, and Eliza crumples. She hugs him close, holds him as if her embrace could heal him, and it helps for a minute.  


“I’m sorry, Alex,” she says. “But…”

 

It’s the hesitance in her voice that makes Alex pull away, makes him realize he has to get out. Eliza looks surprised when he tugs himself out of her hold, but he’s not going to push any more boundaries. Eliza wants to be with her girl—Alex can’t remember the name—and he’s going to respect that. “I’m sorry, I’ll go. You need to be with her. Your text, I should have figured it out. I—good luck, Liz. I really hope it works out for you guys.”

 

“Alexander—” she calls out. Her voice sounds as heartbroken as Alex feels.

 

He climbs back into the elevator without another word. He has nowhere else to turn.

 

So he roams. He roams the city he loves so much but has never had the chance to explore, he visits shops he’s wanted to stop in, he hops on a subway train and makes it pretty far upstate before he decides it’s time to head back home. And he ends up in a library a few blocks from his apartment, some rundown little shop where the majority of the books are old are used, and it’s beautiful.

 

He’s always loved the intricacy of libraries. The intimacy of used books, the stories they could tell if you read past the written word and looked at the book and how it’s previous owner loved it. He’s loved reading for as long as he could hold a book. Hell, his own library is so extensive that some students from his classes have paid him money to rent out a book for a project. He’s got a bit of everything—something for every subject, every topic matter, every issue. And he’s read all of them, loved them and worn the pages.

 

He’s got a library full of knowledge in his brain, and yet he still cannot figure out why he thought it was such a grand idea to try and make John fall in love with him. “Nice going,” Alex says to himself miserably, then he takes a collection of old books and sits down in the corner to read them. The owner leaves him be—she’s closing up shop but doesn’t seem to mind that a strange, sad Latino boy is occupying the corner of her shop. He’s grateful for it. The pages are soft and smell familiar, and for a while its easy to lose himself in the pages and forget about his own problems.

 

Alex thinks, _I’d give anything to have a collection as big as this one, some day_ , and then he decides that maybe he will. The only other two things he’s ever wanted as badly have been a teaching job and John, and he’s a fraction of the way from one and eons away from the other. It’s reassuring, thinking about taking on a project like building a library and owning a shop like this. It’s a lot of work; but Alex takes solace in knowing that this project has the potential to distract him for a long, long time.

 

Eventually he returns the books to their places and apologizes to the owner, but she smiles at him and says it isn’t a big deal and even offers him some tea before he leaves back out into the harsh New York winter.

 

Alex politely says no. It’s late, and it’s probably best if he head home.

 

It’s late, anyway. John’s probably asleep.

 

That’s all he’d been waiting for.

 

So he’ll go home. And he’ll try to savor the feeling of that for as long as he can, as he isn’t sure he’ll be able to call it home tomorrow.

 

He walks for a bit before the cold gets worse and he’s shaking too hard to even walk. His sweater was thick enough when it wasn’t so late, but it’s far too cold out now. When he catches a cab, he climbs in and offers the driver his address and then habitually starts to put his hair up in a bun. When he’s got a lot on his mind, he thinks clearer when his hair isn’t in his face.

 

It’s a quiet walk from the sidewalk to the inside of the building up the stairs until he reaches the door. He’s not used to the silence. His keys are jingling noisily, the loudest sound except for the thoughts pounding in his head.

 

_Home_ , Alex thinks, and he pushes his way inside.

 

His heart stops in his chest when he notices John standing in the front room.

 

“Oh,” he whispers.

 

_God_ , it’s unfair that he looks so beautiful now, looks ethereal and gorgeous and lovely. His t-shirt is far too thin, his jeans are far too tight, and he looks like he’s _glowing_. He’s got this dorky grin on his face, and it hurts Alex because he’s so _damn in love_ with him.

 

Maybe he can put this off for another night. Maybe tonight, something has John in a better mood. Maybe they can pretend that shit isn’t going to hit the fan tomorrow and spend one more night as best friends.

 

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Alex mutters. He tosses his keys onto the hook and messily slips out of his shoes. He rubs at his eye, trying to avoid looking at John at any cost. It’s like looking at the _sun_. “It’s late, don’t you have class tomorrow?”

 

John just shakes his head.

 

Alex thinks, _is this the silent treatment? Are we not supposed to be speaking?_

 

Maybe they can’t pretend after all.

 

Alex is sure John can tell that he’s devastated, he’s sure he looks like a kicked puppy, or a heartbroken kid, or any other variant. But he’s so _tired_ of it all.

 

“I don’t know why you were mad at me earlier,” he hedges. He thinks he might start to cry, and he doesn’t want to do that. Not now, not in front of John. “I probably deserved it. But I’ve had a long night. Can we just…be okay tonight?”

 

It’s a shot in the dark. It’s a pitiful attempt at preservation even though Alex knows he needs to stop trying to do this, stop pushing and toeing the line and making things worse for himself. But he’s terrified of losing John—he’s not ready for that to happen tonight.

 

“Can we be more than okay?” John offers.

 

Alex barely has time to look at him in shock before John’s in front of him, hands coming up to hold his face and his body pushing Alex’s flush against the door. He’s caught between the warmth of John’s body and the cold metal, and he doesn’t have time to ask what’s going on before John’s kissing him and Alex is practically soaring.

 

He thinks he might have gasped, but John takes it in stride and kisses him beautifully and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. John kisses softly and yearning, and it’s delicious and Alex _can’t get enough_. God, he wonders how they went so long without doing this.

 

_Home_ , Alex thinks again, and he decides that he quite prefers the way this feels of coming home than to any other time he’s ever experienced it.


	12. be happy; forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it works out even better than one could imagine.

_—be happy; forever—_

 

 

 

 

 _Home,_ Alex thinks, again, and again. _Home. Home. Home_.

 

He’s sure he’s in shock, but god that won’t stop him from kissing John over and over and over until they tire of it.

 

The kisses change, needy and hungry and sweet and gentle, and all Alex can do is try to find a good grip on John’s back, on his hips, on any part he can. All he can do is revel in the way John’s hips slot perfectly against his own. It’s beautiful. It’s _maddening_. Alex cannot _get_ enough.

 

When Alex pulls away for a moment, John’s gasping for breath. His fingers are wrapped in Alex’s hair, pulling it out of the bun.

 

“You, too?” Alex whispers, voice full of wonderment. A breath of laughter bursts from both of them, and the sounds mingle together beautifully.

 

“Me, too,” John agrees, and Alex cannot go another second without kissing John so he doesn’t. In an impulse decision, he runs his tongue along John’s bottom lip and licks into his mouth when John gasps, and he laughs against John’s mouth when he feels John’s knees give out.

 

“Asshole,” John mutters, and Alex happily shuts him up again.

 

They kiss for days, minutes, hours, years—time blends together and everything else seems irrelevant compared to the sensation of John in his arms, John kissing him without resolve, John’s hands trailing his body and John’s mouth kissing him near an inch of his life. Alex can’t describe the feeling—not long ago, he thought he was at the end and now they’re _here_ —and it’s only the beginning.

 

“I love you,” John finally says, and Alex’s heart takes off again.

 

“I love you,” he echoes. His grip automatically tightens on John’s hips, pulling him closer, closer. “God, I’ve loved you for so long.”

 

John laughs, then, sounding giddy and young and happy. His thumb traces Alex’s cheekbone, and it’s so soft and _nice_ that Alex could cry because of it. “I never thought this would happen,” John admits. “I never—I never even imagined you’d ever feel the same. “God, you’re leagues above me. You’re a hurricane and I’m barely a breeze. I don’t know how you had the time to stop for long enough to spare me a second glance.”

 

“John, I can’t take my fucking eyes off you,” Alex insists. _God_ , he never wants to hear John sound so sad or unsure again. “You occupy—everything. My thoughts, my space, my dreams, my life. You’re the best part of me, even before all of this. Do you know what hurricanes do, John? They destroy things. But you, you remind me how to be gentle. You’re loud and you’re passionate and you’re an asshole, but you care so deeply for people and you don’t have a hateful bone in your body. At least ten petty bones, but not a hateful one.”

 

“Hey!” John whines, and he makes quick work of kissing Alex again and again. Alex doesn’t mind shutting up if this is the way it’ll have to be every time. “Don’t be rude to me, you _love_ me.”

 

“I love you,” Alex agrees, and its a vow he doesn’t ever want to break. “With every bone in my being.”

 

 _And John loves him back_. God, Alex wants to scream it from the rooftops, wants to tattoo it on his body, wants to drown himself in the feeling of John’s arms gripping him closer and he never wants to feel anything else. For far too long Alex had been sure he’d never have a chance.

 

How wonderfully relieved he is to have been wrong.

 

 

* * *

 

 

John’s nails are a tad bit too long.

 

Alex notices, the next morning, that John’s grown out his nails a bit, hasn’t bitten them in quite a while. He noticed last night, when John’s nails left _beautifully_ sharp marks on his back. But he notices again, actually comprehends it, in the early light of the morning after when John’s half asleep on Alex’s chest and happily letting Alex play with his hands.

 

John has long fingers, beautiful fingers. Pianist fingers, guitarist fingers, fingers that have painted and punched and created and destroyed. There’s a faint scar above his middle knuckle, a collection of freckles spanning from the back of his hand down the rest of his arms. His fingers are gentle, Alex remembers, when they’re running through Alex’s hair, when they’re pulling, when they prod, when they stroke.

 

John’s fingers fit perfectly between Alex’s.

 

Alex revels in it, touches every freckle and scar and mark on John’s hands and repeatedly slides his fingers through John’s, intertwines them and marvels at how beautiful a sight it is. Their hands fit perfectly.

 

John turns his head sleepily, just enough to press a kiss to the soft skin of Alex’s stomach.

 

“What’re you doing?” he mumbles. His fingers twitch along Alex’s, and it’s followed by a reassuring squeeze. Alex cannot tear his gaze away from their hands.

 

“Perfect fit,” he murmurs.

 

He can feel a smile spread across John’s face from where he’d nuzzled into Alex’s chest. “Perfect you.”

 

Alex smiles in return. He’s sure he hasn’t stopped smiling since John kissed him last night. Perfect, indeed. Everything about this whole situation is so surreal—he thinks he must be dreaming, he still can’t believe John _loves him back_. A perfect fit, a perfect boy—a perfect story. Ups and downs and the best surprise ending Alex could have ever asked for. “Sap,” he says fondly, and his fingers dance along John’s.

 

“You _love_ me,” John says smugly.

 

And how true a fact that is.

 

 

* * *

 

 

John does this thing with his mouth that has the ability to drive Alexander positively _mad_.

 

Well, John does a lot of things that drive Alex mad, and they’ve only just begun to explore. Alex notices the way the corner of his lips will quirk before he leans in to kiss him. The way John’s mouth forms words is hypnotizing—even more enticing in other languages, and Alex _loves_ it. John’s mouth stretches from ear to ear in the world’s biggest grin any time Alex says anything sappy, and it’s damn beautiful so maybe Alex is a bit cheesy in the things he says. Yes, John has quite a list of things that drive Alex mad.

 

First and foremost, is the way his mouth seems to be memorizing every corner and crevice of Alex’s body.

 

Alex is trembling under John’s ministrations, trying to hold still but overwhelmed by the way John’s mouth feels on his body. John kisses him from head to toe, his tongue flicks across collarbone and nipple and hipbone and inner thigh. He leaves marks _everywhere—_ bite marks when he nips at the softness of Alex’s skin, bruises where he kisses Alex with licks and pulls. John’s hands are on Alex’s hips, on his waist, in his hair—everywhere all at once, and all Alex can do is hold on to whatever he can get a good enough grip on.

 

“ _John_ ,” Alex gasps. “John, John.”

 

John squeezes his hip and noses along Alex’s inner thigh, pressing kisses periodically. “Shh, baby girl,” John murmurs, and his breath along Alex’s skin sends a thrill up his spine. And there’s another thing John does that’s been driving Alex insane. Sometime last night the pet name slipped out, eliciting a response from Alex neither of them had been expecting.

 

The nickname stuck. And Alex _loves_ it.

 

“I got you,” John repeats. “You’re so beautiful, Alex, I’ve got you.”

 

Alex is nearly sobbing at the sensation of it all, John is so _good_ —Alex is overwhelmed, it’s all too much.

 

John’s fingers brush along the length of his cock, then without warning John takes it into his mouth and Alex is gasping for air as John’s tongue flits across the tip. John’s mouth is warm and his tongue is sinful, and John’s hands press into Alex’s hips as he moves up and down Alex’s dick. Alex rocks his hips instinctively, and John takes it like a champ.

 

“I love you,” Alex breathes. It’s the only coherent thought he can form, and he says it over and over—nothing else seems to matter except for John and Alex being in _love with him_. He doubts anything else will ever matter again.

 

John is beautiful and wonderful and slowly taking Alex apart with his mouth. Alex is coming undone, he’s close and they’ve only just started.

 

Alex thinks, _this is only the beginning of everything_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The outside world finally calls them sometime around noon.

 

They’re awoken by the sound of John’s phone ringing, obnoxiously, and for a moment they’re both too groggy to answer it. It’s nice to wake up this way, Alex realizes, with John wrapped around him and their legs tangled together. John seems to have the same sentiment, as he starts pressing kisses to Alex’s shoulder instead of moving to answer his phone.

 

“S’nice,” John murmurs against Alex’s skin. Alex smiles.

 

“Your phone is ringing,” Alex says with a groan. As much as he doesn’t want John to stop what he’s doing, the outside world is _literally_ calling them. John nips at Alex’s skin and grins when Alex shivers.

 

“Or we could ignore the phone call and make out?” John suggests.

 

Alex likes that idea much better.

 

John’s in the middle of slipping his tongue into Alex’s mouth when the phone starts to ring again. They both groan collectively, and Alex starts shifting out of John’s arms. He laughs when John unnecessarily tightens his grip. “ _No_ ,” he whines.

 

Alex pushes at John’s arms. “It’s my phone ringing now,” Alex argues. “That can’t be coincidental. I just want to make sure the world outside hasn’t blown up while we’ve been busy sucking face.”

 

John mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, _that’s not all we’ve been sucking,_ and all Alex can do is roll his eyes and try to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest as he realizes how irrevocably fond he is of John Laurens. John finally lets him up for long enough that he can stumble around the room to find his phone. It’s ringing for a second time, and the display says Laf is calling when Alex finally picks it up.

 

“Lafayette,” Alex tells John, and he answers the phone.

 

“You are alive, yes?” blurts Lafayette, before Alex can even get a word in. “You didn’t answer my call last night and John was looking for you and it’s nearly noon now—are you okay? What the hell happened last night?”

 

Alex stifles a laugh. “I’m—great,” he says honestly, and he loves how true of a statement that is. He’s _great_. “I got home late, John and I…talked. I’m alive. Glad to know my friends worry about me, too.”

 

John’s grinning from his spot on the bed, grinning at Alex and opening his arms all wide and inviting. Alex happily crawls back into bed with his phone and cuddles up next to John. Lafayette sighs on the other line. “I told John not to call me until after eight, it has been four hours past that. I was worried…”

 

“What, that we got in a fight and that it was the end for us?” Alex teases. John kisses the corner of his mouth. “Sorry to tell you, buddy, that’s definitely not what happened.”

 

“What _did_ happen?’

 

Alex looks at John, looks at the man he’s hopelessly in love with, who for some godforsaken reason has chosen to love him back. John is the sun, bursting at the seams, lighting up every dark part that Alex has ever tried to hide. Somehow he convinced this supernova of light to love _him_ , to take a chance on every twisted and scary corner of Alex’s mind. What happened is that somewhere along the way, Alex forgot what it meant to be afraid of loving someone and he let his heart open long enough to welcome in the love of his life. Alex forgot what it meant to stay solitary, and he allowed people into his life who became the best family he could have asked for. What _did_ happen was that Alex was dropped headfirst into a group of people who immediately wrapped him up in their arms and made him drop his defenses so that they could make their home in his life.

 

“Can I call you back?” Alex whispers. John’s smile is brilliant, beautiful, blinding.

 

“ _What_? Alex, no, what’s—” Lafayette tries to argue, but Alex just says goodbye and hangs up and haphazardly throws his phone somewhere in the room. John rolls his eyes and kisses Alex’s nose.

 

“Ignoring our friends?” John teases. Alex wraps his arms around John’s waist.

 

“I’d rather kiss you,” Alex tells him. John raises an eyebrow but obliges, leaning in and kissing Alex happily.

 

“You’re such a sap,” John laughs, pulling away from Alex and rolling his eyes when Alex chases after him. Alex moves his hands from John’s waist to squeeze his ass, reveling in the way John laughs and buries his face in Alex’s shoulder.

 

“Are you _embarrassed_?” Alex asks. He nudges John out of his hiding space and grins at the blush spreading across John’s cheeks. “ _Babe_.”

 

“What,” John groans. He nuzzles back into Alex’s chest, and his curls tickle his neck. Alex can’t stop laughing now—he feels like happiness is bubbling out of him, pouring out of every crack in his armor. _God_ , maybe he is a sap. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

 

“Why are you embarrassed?” Alex asks. He’s running his fingers through John’s curls; he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. Is this how habits are formed, unconsciously, quietly, in moments of peaceful bliss?

 

John groans, and then he’s kissing Alex’s neck and biting and— _oh_. Yes, Alex is sure he could get used to this. He knows John’s deflecting, avoiding whatever embarrassed him in favor for ravishing Alex’s body. The more Alex thinks about it, the more he decides maybe it isn’t such a bad thing.

 

He sucks on a tender part of Alex’s collarbone and it elicits a sharp growl from Alex. His hands wander again and he grabs John’s ass again. John stutters from where he’s kissing Alex’s neck. His skin is on _fire_. 

 

“You’re still _blushing_ ,” Alex teases. “What’s wrong?”

 

John sighs. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “This is—new? I’ve never, like. Done…this. I don’t _know_ what I’m doing.”

 

Alex shifts then, realizes that this is important and that he needs to see John’s face for this. At first John won’t meet his eyes. It’s evident that he’s self-conscious, that he’s afraid Alex is going to disregard his feelings. Alex feels the same way, on some level; terrified to wear his heart on his sleeve but unwilling to back down. They’ve gotten a glimpse into what their lives could be from this point out. Alex will be damned before he says goodbye to that.

 

“We’ll figure it out together,” Alex promises. He’s holding John’s face in his hands now, trying everything he can to get his point across. He’d give anything to ensure that John never felt self-conscious again. “We’re going to figure out how to navigate this together. This is new territory for me, too.”

 

John bites his lip. Alex lets him struggle with whatever he’s trying to say, lets him take a minute before he speaks. “It’s—more than that,” he whispers. “I can do—like, sex. One time things. I’m good at that. Intimacy? Long term? Being in love, being a _boyfriend_ , or—whatever. Jesus. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

 

“John,” Alex says softly. John shakes his head.

 

“No, listen,” John insists. “I’ve never had—a boyfriend before. I’ve never. I don’t know. Everyone I’ve ever tried to love has walked away with me, everyone has hurt me or never given it back. You know what I mean—we’ve, like, talked about it. Before. Anyway. I’ve been scared before. And you…don’t scare me, as much. Maybe because we were friends, before this. That’s my point. That being with you, that making this work, all of it—I’m not scared. I don’t want to get hurt, but. I don’t think that’s the case here.”

 

Alex is grinning like an idiot. “Boyfriend?” 

 

John rolls his eyes.”I’m trying to pour my heart out to you and all you care about is some trivial word?”

 

“Are we _boyfriends_ , John?” Alex teases. It’s effective—John starts stammering and blushing again and tries to nuzzle back into Alex’s neck. Alex laughs and pushes him away. “Stop, I’m serious. Okay, I was teasing you earlier, but it’s a valid question. Is that…what we are?”

They’re both shy now, both blushing and smiling foolishly and enjoying being wrapped in each other’s arms. After a moment of hesitation, John leans forward and gently captures Alex’s lips with his own. For a moment that’s all they do, quietly kiss until finally John pulls away and rests his forehead on Alex’s. “I think—I’d like that. Boyfriends.”

 

“Boyfriends,” Alex agrees.

 

John covers his face in Alex’s neck once again, takes a deep breath that makes even Alex shudder. “Since we’re already…feeling, and discussing. I just want you to know. This isn’t like, casual. I don’t want it to be. I—just because I haven’t. Okay. I’ve never dated seriously before. But I want this, long-term. At the risk of getting too serious, I mean like. A forever deal.”

 

“You’re so sexy when you talk in business terms,” Alex murmurs. John’s still blushing. Alex kisses his nose, his cheekbone, anything else he can reach. “John, I’m just teasing you. I’m _sorry_ , I’m an asshole. If we’re going to do this, forever-deal, you’re probably gonna need to know that, babe.”

 

John’s laughing, muffled by Alex’s body, but it’s a laugh all the same. “You’re such a shithead.”

 

“I love you,” Alex reminds him. “And I want this, too. A forever deal.”

 

John grins stupidly. “Glad to be in business with you, partner.”

 

“Oh my god,” Alex groans, and he rolls John over to pepper kisses along his face. “I’m in love with such a _nerd_.”

 

He’d have it no other way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How long have you known?”

 

“A month or so.”

 

John shifts in his arms, ever so slightly, imitating a shrug. Alex continues to run his fingers through John’s curls. “You should have told me,” Alex murmurs. He tugs on a stray curl when John rolls his eyes, and they both laugh a little breathlessly.

 

“I could say the same for you,” John whispers. Alex bites his lip, shifts his head just enough so he can press a kiss to John’s forehead. He runs the pad of his thumb along John’s cheekbones, his lips; he traces the outline of John’s face and he memorizes every curve and bump. 

 

“We could have had this so much sooner.”

 

John kisses along Alex’s fingers as he traces his face; he reaches up and grabs tight to Alex’s hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he breathes. He’s shivering, Alex can feel his tremors, and with a jolt he realizes John is trying not to cry. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

 

“Shh, shh,” Alex soothes. He kisses John’s face, over and over, wiping away tears and trying desperately to reassure him. “Neither of us knew. I hurt myself. If I could have just told you upfront, we could have avoided this whole thing. You didn’t know. You didn’t hurt me.”

 

“ _I love you_ ,” John says, and he captures Alex’s lips with his own. “I love you, I love you.”

 

Alex lets John pepper him with kisses, lets John repeat his mantra until he’s relaxed again in Alex’s arms. “I love you, too,” Alex whispers.

 

It’s a quiet moment, rare. The light is soft, and cascades into the room gently. The world seems to know that these two boys cannot be bothered. Everything is gentle, still. For the first time, Alex isn’t plagued by a thousand thoughts per minute. His heartbeat steadies alongside John’s.

 

Gentle, still.

 

The start of forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

John is a warm weight, perfect when he lies Alex down in the sheets. John takes control in the best way, encourages Alex to spread his legs so he can climb in between them. He licks his way into Alex’s mouth, kisses hard and easy and good. Alex doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way John’s lips move against his—he’ll never get over the butterflies, the heat pooling in his belly, he’ll never stop getting a head rush anytime John kisses him. Maybe a day will come that Alex isn’t overwhelmed by how wholly he’s ready to give himself over to John. For today, he just revels in the fact that he knows what this feeling is.

 

John grinds his hips up, slowly against Alex’s, and the slight brush of their half-hard cocks against each other is enough to elicit a moan from both men. Alex’s own hands act of their own accord, sliding along John’s sides and tangling in his hair and running over the smooth skin _everywhere_. John is gorgeous, covered from head to toe with beauty, and Alex will never stop marveling at it. He shifts his own hips, then, rubbing their dicks together once more, and they both cry out at the sensation.

 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” John is gasping. Alex blushes.

 

John has called him ever variation of beautiful he can, multiple times, and it never ceases to spread warmth through Alex’s entire body. _Beautiful_ , Alex wants to cry out. _He thinks I’m…beautiful._

 

He doesn’t answer, instead kisses John’s mouth again and again. John’s tongue slides against his, sweet and persuasive and Alex doesn’t need much more prodding. He reaches for the lube left on the nightstand, presses it into John’s side when John doesn’t pull away from kissing him.

 

“More,” Alex pleads. “Please.”

 

Who is John to deny him?

 

John takes the lube from Alex’s hands and then makes his way down Alex’s body, kissing and licking along the way. His tongue traces previous marks he’d left behind; hickeys and bite marks that he soothes now with gentle pressed kisses. He finally spreads Alex’s legs again, places his hands on Alex’s knees and opens him and begins to press kisses to the insides of Alex’s thighs. This was another discovery—the insides of his thighs are sensitive and John _loves_ the response he can elicit just by spending some time down there.

 

John palms Alex over the top of his boxer,s wraps his fingers along the length and tugs. After a minute of taking Alex apart with his deft fingers, John slips his hand past the waistband of Alex’s boxers and pulls them off. Alex is whimpering, and John soothes him with kisses and strokes and every other thing he can do to push Alex closer to the edge.

 

“Please,” Alex wants to sob. “Please, _please_.”

 

John doesn’t need more persuasion.

 

He slips in one finger, and it’s cold from the lube and it startles Alex until John starts to pump it in and out. Alex is still a bit loose from their earlier round, one finger isn’t enough, and John grunts when Alex insists he insert another finger.

 

“Don’t fucking sass me while you’re stretching me open,” Alex gasps out. John snorts out a laugh and rolls his eyes.

 

“Don’t fucking sass me while I’m trying to blow your fucking mind,” he retorts, and Alex is about to shoot back a clever response before John puts his mouth on Alex’s dick and Alex loses all coherent thought. There’s a third finger inserted, at some point, and John curls them periodically and Alex writhes and cries out as they brush his prostate, tries desperately not to shout while John breathes hot and heavy along his dick and stretches him wide with his fingers.

 

“You’re,” he pants. “Jesus, yeah, like _that_ —you’re a fucking _sex god,_ I don’t understand. Oh my god— _mierda_ , don’t—”

 

John pulls away from Alex’s dick, sloppily reaches up to trail kisses up and down Alex’s stomach as he curls his fingers again and again. Alex is trembling, dizzy with sensation, and after a moment John says, “You good?”

 

Alex can’t nod fast enough.

 

It takes too long for John to warm the lube up, takes him too long to prep both him and Alex, and by the time he’s finally done Alex is sure he’s waited a lifetime for this. He guesses he has, in a way. He’s waited his whole life to find someone like John, to find someone to love him the same. Alex is afraid for a moment he might start trembling again.

 

Then John’s hands are wrapping around Alex’s ankles, moving his legs so he can position himself between them and persuading Alex to wrap his legs around John’s waist. He lines himself up, presses another messy kiss to the closest part of Alex he can reach, and pushes in.

 

It’s a good burn, familiar even from just one night prior. They both gasp for a minute, wait out the stretch and burn and shake as the anticipation takes them over. John persuades Alex’s leg up just a bit further, readjusts the angle—

 

When he moves, so does the rest of the world.

 

Both of them shudder and moan at the feeling, both cry out when John tries to move faster. Alex steadies himself, gets a tighter grasp around John’s waist and does everything he can to move alongside John, to meet his thrusts in the middle; he revels in the way John gasps and stutters, marvels at how pretty John is when his eyelids flutter, loves the way John looks during sex. Ethereal, his hair messy and partially framing his face from where it’s come out of his ponytail; glowing, whether from sex or from the light inside him or just because. He’s so _pretty_ , he’s beautiful, he’s untouchable and yet Alex gets to touch him here and now, gets to wrap his fingers around John’s biceps and tug him down so that he can press sloppy kiss after kiss to John’s mouth. It’s messy and not really kissing. Their teeth knocks together, they gasp against each other’s mouths, they laugh when they both try to speak. But Alex gets to _touch_ him, ethereal, glowing, and the thought alone could make him fly.

 

John reaches between them, wraps a hand around Alex’s cock and begins to tug in timing with his thrusts. It’s almost too much, John’s dick in his ass and his dick in John’s hand and John’s warm weight settling over him like a feeling of home he’s never known before. Alex wants to drown in it. He never wants it to end.

 

He’s sappy and ridiculous and so unbelievably in love with a fool named John Laurens, and the entire situation is unreal. _Home_ , Alex thinks again, and he thinks he might have said it out-loud by the way John gasps in surprise and kisses him in haste.

 

“Home,” John echoes, and Alex is _sure_ he’s been speaking out-loud almost the entire time.

 

It only takes another twist of John’s wrist and a few ore thrusts before Alex is coming, hot and gasping for breath, and that’s all it takes for John to follow.

 

John when he comes is a beautiful sight that Alex is positive he will never get used to.

 

They’re both still panting by the time John pulls out of him, and for a second all they can do is grin stupidly at each other and laugh when John practically collapses on Alex’s chest.

 

“I’m so tired,” he whispers dramatically, and Alex presses a kiss to his hairline.

 

“Glad I can wear you out,” he says drily. John shuts him up with another well-placed sloppy kiss. There’s not much behind it, just a gentle pressing of lips if only because they can. Alex loves those kisses, he loves every kiss, and he wants to discover a thousand more.

 

After another minute or two, John starts groaning that the afterglow is wearing off as things are drying in places they shouldn’t, and Alex swats at his bare ass as he stands up to go to the bathroom and get them a washcloth to clean off. It’s a nice moment. Alex is glad to have aspects like this—grossly romantic at one part and ridiculously obnoxious in the next. He could never spend a lifetime with someone who didn’t appreciate his annoying behaviors, or who didn’t rise to the occasion of meeting him on his level.

 

And _oh,_ there’s a thought.

 

Spending a lifetime.

 

Alex is sure he could do this for _days_ —spend hours upon hours in bed with John having sex and kissing and talking about their plans for the future. He wants to have countless talks, countless mornings and nights and days spent in bed and days spent traveling, countless breakfasts and lunch and dinners and everything in between. A _forever_ deal, John had said. Forever, as in, never ending. Alex wants that. He wants it with John. For the first time, he’s not afraid of a forever.

 

John comes back and his steps falter when he sees Alex laying on the bed with the dopiest grin on his face. He smiles fondly back. “Someone’s still enjoying _their_ afterglow,” he teases, but he climbs back into bed and happily cleans Alex up when Alex is too lazy to do it himself.

 

“Is there such thing as a before-glow?” Alex wonders as John works on cleaning him. John peers at him curiously. “Or, like. A forever-glow? Because I’m pretty fucking blissed out and it has more to do than just the sex—mindblowing, by the way. Not trying to subtract from that.”

 

John swats at his thigh.

 

“I’m _serious_ ,” Alex laughs, and John throws the washcloth somewhere in the room and settles for cuddling up next to Alex. “I felt this way long before the sex. And I think I’ll feel this way for a long-ass time. A forever-glow. Non-sex related, totally romantic, I’m in love with you for the long haul, forever-glow.”

 

“You’re so weird,” John says fondly. He nips at Alex’s nose. “It’s a good thing I think you’re fucking sexy, otherwise I wouldn’t tolerate your weirdness.”

 

“You love me, weirdness and all,” Alex shoots back. “That was part of the agreement in our forever deal.”

 

John nods theatrically. “You’re right. How could I forget? Our forever deal.”

 

“And you promised you meant it.”

 

“I did. Every word.”

 

Alex tries to take solace in that. He tries to be reassured by the fact that John can’t be swayed, by John’s unwavering determination to be with him for the long haul. And it’s a nice thought. He has a long way to come, a long way to go, and a lot of insecurities to get over along the way.

 

But John falls asleep in his arms, looking beautiful and young and trusting, and that’s all the reassuring Alex needs. If John can trust him enough to sleep in his arms, countless times, Alex can trust that they’re going to make it through this, for good. No going back, fighting to make things work, a forever deal.

 

Alex cannot _wait_ for the rest of forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You said earlier you weren’t scared. Did you mean that?”

 

John takes a shaky breath. “I’m not scared of letting myself love you,” he whispers. The night has grown dark, a full day has past that they’ve spent in each other’s arms. Alex is dizzy with it; the gentleness of the night has made him soft. “I think that loving you will be the greatest thing I’ll ever do. I’m scared… of losing you. Of you walking away, or of something happening to you.”

 

“I’ll never leave you.”

 

It’s a vow, and Alex has never meant anything more in his life.

 

“I know. But sometimes you don’t have a choice. Something could happen, you know? Mom got sick. She didn’t leave, but. She could have. Things happen sometimes. But… I think it’s worse to be scared than to just hope. I love you. You love me. We’ve wasted so much time not saying anything. I want…to enjoy this. So. Any fear I have? It doesn’t matter.”

 

“I do love you.”

 

“I know. I love you too.”

 

It’s quiet for another moment, still except for the noise outside. They hold each other, that’s all that matters for a while.

 

“Are _you_ scared?”

 

Alex hesitates. “I—a little. People always leave. I managed to convince myself you didn’t love me and I was ready to run away. I’m just—worried. About myself. And my tendencies to fuck up relationships. You could say one thing and I’d take it another and I could ruin this for us. This perfect, _perfect_ thing we’ve found and created. I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Alexander, you’re the most important thing I’ve got. I wouldn’t let you get out the door before I’d be on my knees begging you to stay.”

 

They both smile.

 

“You’re all I’ve got, too.”

 

John kisses his nose. “Then it’s a good thing we got each other.”

 

“ _Forever_.”

**Author's Note:**

> And so we’ve reached the end. I'll try not to get too sappy in this note but I do have a few things I want to say.
> 
> What a journey I have had.
> 
> To each and every person who read this story and who took it upon themselves to reach out to me (whether it be through a comment, a tumblr ask or message, a mention on tumblr, fanart, a fanmix, or any variant): you went out of your way to let me know that you enjoyed my story and that it was worth reading. This fic was meant to be self-indulgent, but you made it something worth remembering.
> 
> To any person who finds themselves in a similar situation to Alex; I’ve been there. And I’m here for you know. This story is for _you_.
> 
> If any of you need anything at all, ever; well, you know where to find me.
> 
>  
> 
> *
> 
> i am no longer an active part of the hamilton fandom, but if you need: you can find me on [tumblr](https://feuillyys.tumblr.com) crying abt les mis or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tannscotts) posting about various things.
> 
>  
> 
> comment, kudos, bookmark below!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Smashing Every Expectation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773821) by [SumthinClever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumthinClever/pseuds/SumthinClever)




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